Ravens Claws
by Chaos Dragon
Summary: For Danny Fenton, death has come sooner than for most. But when he has the chance to go home, to protect the ones he cares most about, how he can he say anything but yes? There’s only one catch: No one can know that he isn’t a mortal anymore. DxS HIATUS
1. Preface

Ravens Claws

Ravens Claws

Preface

Revised, 8/4/08

When I first started this fic I knew full well that the scope of it was more than I, as a single writer, could handle. The storyline for _Ravens Claws_ was always meant to be quasi-epic, at least in my mind. But I've always been able to easily amuse myself, so what I think is epic might not necessarily be so. However, the attention this fic has garnered reader and review wise only makes me think that the plot was as amazing as I and my first coauthor believed.

For those who've been with the fic since the beginning you've all been well aware how long _RC_ has been on hiatus—night unto two years now. The reason gives me cause to regret the loss, but here is the formal announcement that Me The Anon One, my brilliant coauthor in this endeavor, and I have parted ways. I wish her all the best on her new ventures and thank her for the wonderful work she's put into the writing and the plotting of _Ravens Claws_.

However, there is good news that comes with it: my dear friend and esteemed writer in her own right, Twisted Creampuff, has deigned to slide into the vacant coauthor spot. Therefore, the fic shall move forward.

As always, I'd like to present the readers with a rather specific blanket disclaimer due to the fact that this is something of a round robin, and that within the first few chapters it somehow became a crossover with _Good Omens_, a brilliant satirical novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. The characters Crowley and Aziraphale (as well as the once or twice mentioned Adam) belong to these two gentlemen and are only on loan for as long as it takes us to send Danny's life into an irreparable cesspit of misery.

For the more serious disclaimer, any religious disputes anyone might or might not have with anything that may or may not be inside this fic can (respectfully) bugger off. It's a story, not theology, and I and my coauthor(s) assume full artistic license. I realize that this is going to send some readers scurrying immediately, but it can't be helped. Besides, if you think the liberties I'm taking here are bad, you should probably try avoiding anything I write, since I don't like to conform.

A final addendum; I have no intentions of revealing who wrote what, or which bits came from which muse. Don't ask, it won't be answered. This is a collaboration and credit is shared. All of the (thus far) three minds that have contributed has given brilliant additions on their own, I find no need to be more specific.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy. Cheers!

Chaos Dragon


	2. Chapter 1

Ravens Claws

1

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

It could have been better. Actually, it could have been a lot better. If it had been better, Danny wouldn't be floating twenty feet above the ground, blood dripping from a gash above his right eye and blurring his sight red. If it had been better, Danny wouldn't have been clutching his side against the stitch in it as his chest heaved, his breath burning in his lungs as he tried to catch it, tried to will the fatigue and fear away.

If it had been better.

Instead, it was going very badly, because the blood in his eyes wasn't the only blood he was bleeding, and he knew that something was seriously wrong if his blood was more red then green even while he was in his ghost form. Even worse was the fact that Danny knew winning wasn't going to happen. Not easily, and perhaps not at all.

It was a new ghost, one that he'd never seen before, or even heard of. After all, who would even want to claim the ignoble 'Achmed the Snake' when he wasn't even a bit snakely in the least? Strange, very talented with the pain giving, but not serpentine at all. Instead this ghost darted around like a damned mosquito refusing to be swat, swathed in veils and the like so that no skin showed, only glowing and glittering red eyes.

He was thin, whipcord thin and strong, with strange delicate strong hands that could send slicing energy inches into flesh. It was what had Danny bleeding, that particular attack, and the reason why his world was colored through blood shaded glasses. Worse than that was the fact that he seemed to know exactly what Danny was going to do before Danny had even figured it out for himself. The other reason the battle was going so badly.

Danny blinked and tried rubbing the blood from his face, ignoring the bright red stain on his glove as it blended with other stains, red, black and sooty. Achmed the damned Snake had disappeared again, he realized with a weary glance around. He'd done that periodically, phasing in and out of visibility. Danny assumed it was so that he could have a few minutes to regroup, charge up his energy so that he could continue beating the hell out of the younger ghost.

It was a tactic that Danny couldn't afford to use; the moment he disappeared from view the rest of the town was left open to attack. No, he had no choice but to keep the rampaging spirit's attentions, no matter what the cost. If only he hadn't left home without a thermos that morning. It was a rueful thing to think, he knew, and was why Sam and Tucker were hopefully on their way back from his house with one.

Habitually one of the three had a thermos on or nearby their person, but for some reason it hadn't been the case that day. It was because of the heavy workload. It had to be. All three were wearing under the strain of it. With exams less than a month away, Team Phantom was preparing for them and anticipating the transition of junior class member to senior class member. Well, one was preparing, the other two were rushing around like chickens with their heads cut off and alternately studying and praying that they didn't fail.

"Where are you guys?" Danny whispered to himself as he shot another glance around, this one much closer to frantic as the tail end of his question turned into a muffled curse as he ducked forward, the ground looming dangerously near as he tried to avoid the slicing energy that flew past where he had just been.

The next attack didn't miss, and Danny bit back a scream as energy slashed across the top of his left forearm making everything below it suddenly limp and numb. A better alternative to the searing pain that Danny knew should have been there; logic only dictated when something was cut to the bone that it should hurt. But it didn't, and Danny spared no attention to wonder that his arm was sliced in half with blood flowing freely as he ducked and dodged again.

The dodge took him into the ground and he grunted with the impact, vision going hazy and gray for a moment before he pulled himself to his knees with a grown. Danny winced as he felt the abrasions along the side of his face making themselves known with the angry sting that only layers of removed skin can do, and pushed back up from the ground with an unsteady leap into the air.

"Danny!" The yell came from behind him and Danny turned in midair, automatically ducking the ghost of Achmed the Snake as he swept past, and then reflexively catching the thermos that Tucker was throwing up at him, shoving it under the arm that didn't want to work properly from the elbow down and uncapping it with a smooth and practiced ease with his undamaged hand.

_There,_ Danny thought as the blue vortex caught the tail end of the ghost's body and began tugging it inexorably closer. And then it happened.

He didn't miss the whiplash motion of Achmed the Snake's arm, the way his thin knife like hand cut through the air and created a blurred attack of condensed energy. And Danny didn't miss what it was aimed at. No, not what. _Who._ The ghost had aimed at Sam and Tucker, knowing that it wasn't Danny who had beaten him, but the friends that had been two steps behind him the entire time.

The flash of a dark grin caught Danny's eye before he dropped the thermos to the ground, not even noticing when it finished drinking the ghost in and shut itself off with a faint whir and click. No, Danny was already flying for his friends, one arm stretched out to try and shove them out of the way, grab them, save them, the other tucked up to his chest uselessly as he ignored the lack of sensation and tried to be more aerodynamic.

But Danny knew that he wasn't going to make it. He could tell, he could see. He was only barely in front of the curving blade of ectoenergy, and there wasn't enough room for him to beat it out enough to even push Sam and Tucker out of the way. _No._ The blood in his eyes, the pain in his side, the aching numbness where he knew he should be in agony from the wounded arm…

None of it compared to the way his heart felt as he realized he was about to lose his two best friends, one of them whom he happened to love more than his own life.

It's strange, the things a person will realize when they're face with mortality, whether it's their own or someone else's. Some people will have the infamous flashing of their life before their eyes, others will picture the things that could have been, would have been, should have been. And now never will. But for Danny it was the crystal clarity that he couldn't allow his friends to die, the sudden knowledge that the world would be meaningless without both of them in it, and most especially her.

Clueless certainly had new meaning to him, and Danny forced his eyes to Sam's wide violet ones as he realized that there was only one real solution to the problem. And apparently, so did she.

Without a second thought, a hesitation in the least, Danny threw his body sideways in the air just in front of the massive attack that would have sliced clean through his friends within moments if he hadn't. It hurt. It _hurt_, and the pain was a thousand times worse than anything he'd ever felt before except for the day he'd lost half of his life when he'd stepped into his parent's ghost portal and turned it on.

_So this is what it feels like to die._

Slowly the pain began to recede. The light followed, and the echoing sounds of sobbing disappeared too. And just before everything melted from gray to black, Danny made his peace with the world.

---

"It's been two days," Sam said listlessly from where she sat on her bed. Tucker was idly spinning on her desk chair, pushing off and lifting his feet up to let fly until the inertia died and he was still again. "If he were okay he would have contacted us by now."

Tucker stilled his newest spin with a loud dragging of his feet against the floor. "I think we both know that he's not okay."

"He's not dead," she whispered sharply, eyes burning. "We'd know if he was dead," this fainter than before as the tears began to flow. The bed tilted suddenly and she found two warm arms wrapped around her; Tucker pulling her close and letting her bury her face against his shoulder as she cried.

"It's alright, Sam," he said evenly, loud enough for her to hear but not much louder than that. "You're right. We'd know."

But Tucker knew that they didn't know. He had suspicions, but no concrete evidence. There'd just been too much blood after Danny had disappeared in the flash of blindingly white light. Too much blood, and he'd seen the desperate fear on his best friend's face as he'd looked to Sam and Tucker, both. He'd seen the resignation as brilliant green eyes shifted from both to just one, and had known the second that Danny had looked at Sam, only Sam, that Danny had made the decision to sacrifice himself to save her.

To save them both, he knew, but more Sam than Tucker. It was something he could live with; he knew what it was like to love someone and not be able to tell them. Of course, for Tucker it was fear from the wrath of his best friend, rather than rejection.

He figured that would come quickly enough if ever he lost the fear of Danny murdering him slowly and painfully and leaving his body somewhere public in a humiliating position.

"Jazz knows something's up," Sam whispered as she pulled away, wiping at her face and cheeks with a hand. Tucker shrugged. "We need to tell her, don't we?"

Again Tucker shrugged, the wheels in his head turning. "No. Not yet. The weekend is in two days. We'll go see Clockwork Friday night and get some answers, okay?"

"That's still two nights away, Tuck," Sam said, though her eyes were noticeably brighter as she realized that answers could be found, that she—they—wouldn't hang in a limbo of uncertainty forever. But her face fell suddenly enough that Tucker stiffened with fear. "We don't know how to get to Clockwork's castle."

At that, Tucker could only smile. "Don't worry, Sam. I can get us there."

Sam nodded, letting his conviction wash over her. "Okay. I trust you, Tucker." And for all of it, Tucker could only hope that her trust wasn't misplaced.

---

The only thing that Danny noticed when he woke up was that it was too bright. Really too bright, and he shut his eyes again quickly as he rubbed at them, feeling like there was something wrong with them and at the same time finding nothing. They were just too sensitive. It was still too bright when Danny tried opening his eyes again, cracking them ever so slightly until he could look around without them watering.

It was white. Blindingly white, as far as he could see, and he had to squash the urge to touch the ground beneath his feet to feel if it were snow or ice. He already knew it wasn't. He'd seen snow and ice too many times before to mistake this, whatever it was, for that. It lacked the sheen, the glittering cold of it. Hell, he'd made snow and ice often enough since uncovering the source of his ghost sense at the beginning of sophomore year.

_More than a year ago,_ thought absently as he brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked around again.

That was when he noticed that he'd used his left arm to brush the hair away. His left arm, the arm that should have been gashed, bleeding, numb, or rather in agony. He stared at it. It was perfect, whole, untouched. Like Achmed the Snake had never harmed him. With startled eyes Danny tugged up his shirt to see if the bloody abrasions he expected along his side were there.

Finding nothing he ran careful, frightened fingers across his forehead and right eyebrow. Nothing. _Nothing was there._ No cut, no blood, hell, his fingernails looked like someone had tugged them off, scrubbed him down with some bleach, and then snapped them back into place as a matter of course.

Danny was still staring transfixed at the clean skin of his arm, feeling the smooth and unblemished slope over his eye, when he heard the footsteps behind him. He jerked around, too unnerved to even consider going ghost as he instinctively let his ghost powers pool into the fingertips of his right hand. And then watched as they flickered and fizzled out at a casual wave of from the hand of the newcomer.

"Who are you?" Danny asked, taking a step back. Another step, and he was demanding, "Where the hell am I?"

"Yes, well," the new figure said as it seemed to solidify into form. A man, then, with longish hair that seemed to waver between true brown and a messy mix of brown and blond. His eyes were green, a steady clear color that seemed to go on forever, and he was dressed in khaki colored pants and a plain white tee-shirt. And he was barefoot.

Danny blinked at that, taking his tongue firmly between his teeth before he could start bursting out the dozens of questions he had, like where his wounds were, and why wasn't he in his ghost form, and how on earth was any place this unendingly white?

"Daniel Fenton," the man said. "Right on time." He jerked his hand up to forestall the thought in Danny's mind, saying, "I know, don't call you Daniel. Danny it is, and this," he gestured expansively around, "is not hell."

Danny had about two seconds to wonder how the man knew his name, and how he had known that Danny was going to instruct him never to call him Daniel. And why he'd said this wasn't hell. Then the strange man was saying, "I'm Aziraphale, Danny, and welcome home," as a set of great feathered wings unfurled behind him, moving gently as the man—Aziraphale—took a step toward Danny.

Danny didn't need another two seconds before his eyes were rolling up inside his head, and he passed out cold at the Gates of Heaven.


	3. Chapter 2

Ravens Claws

2

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

Danny opened his eyes again to find himself lying in a blindingly white room, experiencing déjà vu. He'd been here before. Wait, he was in Heaven. He closed his eyed for a moment. It would have been nice if it was just a bad dream, but today he wasn't that lucky.

"You're awake?" a voice asked as Danny sat up and look around the room in bewilderment. His eyes found the owner of the voice, the creature in white and khaki. What was his name?

"Aziraphale, my name is Aziraphale," the man answered. "And before you start throwing questions at me. Yes, I'm an angel. Yes, you are in heaven, and yes, you are dead." He paused and smiled almost wryly. "Or you could say you are now alive, it depends on your perspective."

"Heaven?" Danny asked as he blinked at the angel who was looking back with a peaceful, happy expression. "How did I get here? What am I doing here?" His mind raced, and how did he get out? He needed to get home. He needed to make sure Tucker and Sam were safe.

"Get out?" Aziraphale asked, then laughed in amusement. "Why would you want to get out of Heaven? Most people are dying to get in." He chuckled to himself then frowned at Danny's expression of horror.

"All right," Aziraphale said as his shoulders dropped. "No sense of humor. You're stunned, it's understandable. You've lead a very unusual life."

Danny stood and looked around for a moment his eyes scanning for a muted green door which would lead him to the Ghost Zone. "I need to get home. How long have I been here?" This was by far the oddest place he'd been in the Ghost Zone, and this Aziraphale creature, who played like he was some gate keeper in heaven, was the oddest ghost yet.

Aziraphale sighed as he watched Danny, his happy demeanor faltered and was replaced by a look of profound sadness. "Most people, upon finding themselves at Heaven's gates, are eager to run straight through without looking back."

"I need to go home," Danny told Aziraphale urgently. "How long have I been gone?" He knew deep down in his heart that he wasn't in the Ghost Zone, that this angel was an angel and not a ghost, and that he was dead. Dead.

His first thought was of his mother. His heart sank and tears pricked at his eyelids as his throat constricted with tears. He wondered who would tell her. Tucker. He could see Tucker telling her. Poor Tucker, he always carried such a heavy burden.

Danny could almost see his mother's face filled with anguish, as he closed his eyes. No mother should ever have to lose her children, it just wasn't the way it was supposed to be. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to hold back his tears. He didn't want to cry in front of Aziraphale.

Would Tucker tell them his secret? Would his father be disappointed in him, a half ghost, hiding from his parents the biggest secret possible, not trusting them to love him? Would his dad feel like he failed? Would they still love him or would they just throw his memory away, want to forget him?

Then there was Jazz. Danny took a deep breath. He knew how she was. She would pretend to be strong, she would be their parent's strength, but Danny was worried. His last words to her were angry and bitter. She had called him reckless and irresponsible. He had called her a few unthinkable names, told her she was like a machine, only able to analyze, but not able to feel, to get a life of her own and stop trying to live his. He wished he could take back all the rotten things he'd said. He didn't mean them; he was just hurt, and had wanted to hurt her in return.

Danny's mind skittered over Sam avoiding her, like a bruise which was too painful to touch, or more like an aching burn, bloody and raw. His thoughts were directed toward Tucker.

Usually families are born to each other, and sometimes family just grow out of friendships. Tucker had been Danny's true blue friend for so long that he was more like a brother than anything else. He knew Tucker was strong, that he would forge on. Tucker had an uncanny knack for being extremely adaptable, he was the one person Danny wasn't worried about.

Danny opened his eyes and looked at Aziraphale who was watching him curiously. Danny didn't want to think about Sam, it hurt too much. He simply resolved to get back to her, but panic welled inside Danny's chest. He was dead. How was he going to bet back to her? Was he going to haunt her? Did he really want to be a full ghost?

After years of denial, embarrassment, repressed feelings, crushes, jealousy and friendship, a real relationship was finally starting to develop between them. He hadn't had a chance to tell her he loved her yet. Oh God, he loved her so much it was unreal. How could he leave her?

Danny didn't know which was worse, as a knot of grief lodged itself in his chest, the idea of Sam grieving over him or the idea of her moving on, forgetting him. He knew Sam, she was stubborn and strong, but someone would fall in love with her, just like he had, and she would move on, belong to someone else…maybe it would be Tucker. He hated the thought of her loving someone else, having children, the children Danny desperately wanted with her, waking up beside her every day, living the life he wanted with her. Danny stifled a groan of agony. He needed to get back.

"Danny," Aziraphale began kindly as he watched Danny cry. "People are usually ecstatically happy to find themselves standing at Heaven's gates. This is a celebration!" Danny looked back at the angel for a moment.

"This is it!" Aziraphale continued soothingly. "The finish line! The ultimate goal! I have seen people struggle with denial at first, you're not abnormal, but you need to accept…"

Danny moved away from the angel. "No," he said determinedly. "No, it's not denial. No." The pain in his chest worsened. If this was really Heaven, shouldn't his emotions have changed? Shouldn't he be at peace? If this was really Heaven.

"This is really Heaven," Aziraphale said his voice almost filled with amusement. "You're home, Danny. Home!" He opened his arms. "There is no need to struggle. You can let go of all the burdens you carry. You're free…."

Danny could feel a strange sense of peace settling over him like a blanket, sinking into his skin, chasing away the dark shadows of pain and grief, of his mourning, denial, shock all of it began lifting, but the moment it touched his feelings for his family he began to fight it. His thoughts cleared and became sharper. He looked at Aziraphale his eyes flaming with determination. The angel blinked in confusion.

Aziraphale's voice was soothing as he spoke, telling Danny to relax, that from now on everything was going to be fine. He didn't need to worry, he just needed to accept that his journey was over, it was time to accept his reward.

"You mean let go of my family," Danny replied coolly. "Let go of Tucker… Sam…"

"Their journey continues," Aziraphale told him as he watched Danny with a sense of bewilderment. "Yours is over."

Danny looked at Aziraphale for a moment as panic over ran the peace trying to invade his soul, giving him strength to fight. He had to go back.

Aziraphale looked deeply pained as he realized that Danny's homecoming wasn't going to be easy, he was one of the rare people, who were bound so tightly to their life's work, that letting go was a long process, at least if Aziraphale wanted to be gentle about it. He'd been accepting souls into heaven for a very long time, he'd been exposed to every situation imaginable, and he was wise enough to understand that Danny was different, but he felt that the protocol for preparing a soul for processing into the bliss of Heaven's eternal peace should be structured and orderly, so he was prepared to make things easy for Danny, and himself, by speed things up a bit, it was a mercy really even if it was generally frowned upon.

Danny recognized by the resolute look on Aziraphale's face that there would be no bargaining, no negotiations, that the Angel intended on taking something from him which he was not willing to give.

"Please understand," Aziraphale began kindly. "That my intentions are not cruel, but you need to move on..."

"No," Danny said forcefully as he allowed his ghost powers to build up again, his stomach turned as the knowledge that using force against this creature was wrong and the consequences if Aziraphale was hurt, would put him in a worse situation than he was in now. "You don't understand... I—"

Aziraphale held up his hand to silence Danny. "I do understand," he told Danny sympathetically, well in theory he understood.

Danny railed against the hopelessness of the situation. Aziraphale was not going to listen, the angel was unmovable, determined to move forward toward his goal with no deviations in his path. He moved away as the angel reached forward to touch him.

"God!" Danny called out in despair. "Help me." He had to get back to them he had to. He couldn't stay here.

Aziraphale froze, his eyes going wide as his eyes focused off of Danny and into the distance. Danny turned and looked behind him but found nothing except an expanse of blinding pure white. Then he heard it. Was it a voice?

It was the sound of thunder, of rain, birds singing, an unending high pitched tone, a waterfall, of so many things, it was hard to define, and yet Danny understand each sound as if they were words. The sound was light and life and peace. Danny's heart began to race, his eyes filled with the tears of emotion and his body trembled as he was hit by the revelation that what he was hearing, was the voice of God.

Danny fell to his knees placing his forehead on the cool white floor as he was completely overwhelmed, crying reverently, "Oh God! Oh God!"

Aziraphale vanished, leaving Danny with their master, who allowed Danny his emotional outburst as Danny cried out his pain and his love and his need.

"Be calm," the voice ordered lovingly. "You need not despair my faithful and dear servant."

"I need to go home," Danny said as he looked up. He saw no one, but he could feel the presence of God, he knew he wasn't alone.

"You are here before your time," the voice of God replied. "You gave your life for your friends, sacrificing yourself for them, so great is your love for them, and you shall be rewarded, though for a time you may see it more as a curse than a reward."

"You're going to send me home?" Danny asked in relief.

"Your friends and your family are in danger, Danny; I am sending you back to protect them from an evil which is poised to consume them. I need you to divert its attention. You, Danny, will be my lightening rod."

"Can't you just destroy it?" Danny asked, he was used to talking to powerful creatures, but this was different, he did his best not to sound sarcastic or angry. "Don't you have the power to make anything happen?"

"Yes," the voice of God answered. "But I will not interfere so blatantly. I cannot explain my purposes in a way which you would understand, to you it is without logic, rhyme or reason. Simply trust me Danny. I do not play dice with the universe."

Danny smiled. "You are asking me to be your servant?"

"You have always been my servant," the voice answered. "But yes."

"What do you want me to do?" Danny asked.

"I have given instructions for you to be made ready for your return," the voice began. "The task set before you Daniel will be hard, but there will be reward for you when you have finished."

"So the return is temporary?"

"Of course," the voice of God replied. "Your place is here."

Danny bowed his head and closed his eyes. He was going back home, but from what he understood, it was only to complete a mission, and then he would be gone again. He sighed deeply, but at the very least, he'd be able to give everyone closure, prepare them for the loss.

"Aziraphale returns to prepare you," the voice of God said tenderly. "Please be patient with him and his brethren, they have not tasted life, therefore they have limits in their ability to understand and sympathize. You are greater than they in that you have learned the flexibility of life, show them mercy as they deal with you."

"Yes, sir," Danny replied then felt the presence fade, leaving him feeling bereft of the warmth and completeness the presence of God had given him.

"Danny," Aziraphale said. Danny turned to look at the angel, who was standing with his forehead furrowed in worry. "Please come with me and talk to Manasseh, he is in charge of those who return, he's going to be surprised, he hasn't seen a case like yours in a very, very long time."

--

Danny followed Aziraphale through several corridors of light, wondering where everyone was, then thinking that maybe they were keeping him away from the others, since he was going back. He shivered in worry then moved to scratch his back in discomfort.

Manasseh was not at all what Danny expected. He thought the angel would be like Aziraphale, wearing the same uniform, but Manasseh was tall and thin with a long solemn face and questioning gray eyes and gray hair. He looked on Aziraphale with what Danny interpreted as disapproval than turned his jade green eyes on Danny and smiled.

"Welcome Judged One," Manasseh began. "I have clear instructions to send you back from whence you came, as is." The angel's eyebrows rose. "Quite a special occasion! Quite unusual. There are rules!"

"Rules?" Danny asked feeling dumb as he continued to look at Manasseh, he looked more like a traditional angel. Wings, white robes, sandals, the only thing missing was his harp.

"I don't play the harp," Manasseh told Danny almost absently as he turned and looked at Aziraphale.

"I cannot leave," Aziraphale told Manasseh who began to look slightly annoyed. "I've been charged as Danny's guide through this process, I cannot abandon him to your tender mercies Manasseh."

"As if I would hurt him," Manasseh said indignantly. "As if I cannot be trusted!"

Aziraphale laughed. "Danny needs to go back with all his memories intact. I know how you are Manasseh, a memory lost here, a memory lost there. You have a warped sense of humor."

Manasseh looked at Danny for a moment then said, "Tell me boy, are there not things which you'd rather forget? Embarrassing moments which hinder your progress through life?" Danny snorted as he thought about things he wanted to forget like having to eat Dash's tighty whities after losing a bet, or the time he fought with the box ghost and ended up dressed in a frilly pink costume with a wig in front of the whole school, or the whole pants dropping episode. He'd had a lot of embarrassing moments.

"No," Danny finally said firmly. He wanted to go home and even come back just as he was, taking away those memories, he decided as bad as they were, would take away a part of who he was.

Manasseh growled in disgust then looked at Aziraphale, "Fine. Stay. You'll be bored."

"I'm not afraid of a little boredom," Aziraphale replied.

Manasseh shook his head then turned back to Danny. "It is going to take three days."

"Three days?" Danny asked.

"To process your paperwork," Manasseh continued. "It takes two days for the paper work to filter through the proper channels, and then you need to be apprised of the rules, but of course I cannot give you the rules until your situation has been made clear to me and I study the legal ramification. There are laws you know! This must be done the right way or we'll disrupt the delicate balance of life and death."

"I see," Danny replied as he watched the angel talking animatedly.

"It's like this," Manasseh began. "Creation is like a huge tapestry, we're building something you know? You have been removed from the pattern and so we need to assess the situation before we spool you back in. Get it?"

"Sure," Danny answered as he nodded his head and looked at Aziraphale who spun his finger on the side of his head to indicate that Manasseh was crazy.

"Why do you say I'm crazy?" Manasseh asked as he turned on Aziraphale almost angrily.

Aziraphale shrugged his shoulders. "You talk of the delicate balance of creation and blah blah blah and then you try to remove memories and—"

"Just improving the pattern!" Manasseh said in exasperation then rolled his eyes.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Danny asked. "Do I just stand around here and wait for paper work to come in?" He frowned as he imagined paperwork in heaven, it seemed absurd. Standing here seemed absurd, but that's what it seemed like they wanted him to do, it's what they were doing, just standing there.

"Well," Manasseh began. "We have to hold you in the waiting rooms. We cannot let you through the gates without first purifying you completely. Should we purify you completely and sent you through the gates home, I doubt you'd want to return."

"Don't count on it," Aziraphale said in amusement. "He's stubborn."

"Plus," Manasseh continued as he looked at Aziraphale sternly. "If we sent you in there as is, you would be a disruption. You have to stay here."

"Why are you such a bureaucrat?" Aziraphale asked. "Can't we bend the rules a little? Get him back faster?"

"No!" Manasseh said sternly.

"Then what do we do with him until your crazy paperwork clears?"

"Let him sit in the green room," Manasseh suggested.

Aziraphale gave Manasseh an irritated look. "You talk of rules, paper work, studies, balance and all that nonsense and then you want to put him where he can look on his friends and family as they mourn him? That's not disruptive?"

Manasseh gave Aziraphale a sour look. "Have you no mercy, Aziraphale? Have you been greeting souls for so long that you are no longer able to understand the pain their souls are in at the divorce of their being from their loved ones? Danny's heart is in agony. Have mercy and let him see that those he loves are well."

Danny blinked at the two angels as they argued back and forth. He didn't understand what they were talking about or why they were arguing. He just wanted to go home and wondered how he was going to explain things when he appeared again.

"They don't know you're gone," Aziraphale told Danny.

"You just disappeared," Manasseh added as he motioned for Danny to follow.

"I disappeared?" Danny asked in confusion.

"No body," Aziraphale clarified. "Your friends suspect you're dead, but they're not sure."

Manasseh produced a stool from the ground up and motioned for Danny to be seated. He waved one hand and a clear window appeared before them, it almost reminded him of Clockwork's lair, looking back and forth in time.

Danny blinked back tears as he heard his mother's voice and the window zeroed in on her standing in the hallway yelling up at the stairs for Jazz.

"Have you seen Danny?" she asked.

"No," Jazz said as she peeked up from the top of the stairs. "Not since this morning. He's not in his room."

"It's getting late," Maddie replied. "Can you call Tucker or Sam? Tell them to send him home. He knows he's not supposed to be out this late on a school night."

"Sure Mom," Jazz answered. Danny's eyes were fixated to the window as his view followed Jazz to the phone.

Manasseh put his hand on Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale wiped away his tears and Manasseh smiled sadly. "Leave him be, Aziraphale. If he needs you, you'll know."

"I've never been charged with guardianship," Aziraphale told Manasseh. "I'm worried for him."

"Are you questioning our Lord's decision?" Manasseh asked.

"No," Aziraphale said. "I'm feeling empathy for the boy. Imagine being stuck with me as your guide."

"Take heart dear brother," Manasseh laughed. "At least he has been spared Nicodemus' presence." Aziraphale smiled then looked back at Danny whose attention was focused unwaveringly on the scene of Jazz on the phone with Tucker, tears running down his face.

"Leave him be," Manasseh told Aziraphale gently. "I know it seems cruel, but this is the best way to keep him attuned to his life."

"My heart aches for him," Aziraphale said.

"Mine too," Manasseh replied then walked from the room with Aziraphale not far behind.


	4. Chapter 3

Ravens Claws

3

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

Danny decided that there was one good thing about being dead: he no longer required either food or sleep. It allowed him to spend two straight days watching the window Manasseh had opened for him, two straight days of worry, sorrow, grief that would, at times, drive him to his knees as his heart broke over and over into thousands of shattered little pieces. But still he watched; it was better than the not knowing.

His mother's hurt and his father's confusion when Jazz hadn't been able to find him at Sam or Tucker's house, and had to admit as much. He could see it on Jazz's face, that she knew he was most likely out fighting ghosts—she would never even begin to think of the truth. That he was dead and watching her from some place in heaven.

And the next night was even worse, as he watched his family sitting around the table. The argument of bringing Sam and Tucker over to try and sort out where Danny was, what had happened… It had fallen on deaf ears as Jazz deftly manipulated her parents into avoiding that. But it didn't stop the discussion that followed.

"Why would he run away?" Jazz, trying to find a way to help him, even when he was beyond any help other than divine.

His mother sighed, dropped her face into her hands, eyes tired, shoulders drooped. "I don't know, Jazz. This is so unlike Danny. I know there's something wrong, I know that something's been wrong for a long time.

Danny watched as Jazz stiffened in her chair, turquoise colored eyes wide, and Danny began to wonder himself if his mother actually knew his secret.

"Well, he either ran away," his father's booming voice sure despite the worry in his eyes, "And if he did he'll be spending the rest of his life in the Fenton Stockades." Danny almost laughed at the nasty look his mother shot at his father, but Jack missed it, like Danny knew he would. Like Danny knew he always did. "Or he was taken against his will. And then someone _else_ will spend the rest of their life in the Fenton Stockades."

Danny didn't know which thought was worst. His parents thinking he ran away, or them thinking that he'd been kidnapped. Either way it was leading to a mess he wouldn't be able to handle when he got back, because either way it would involve police.

"Have no fear," came a soft voice from his shoulder. It was Aziraphale, standing there with gentle green eyes too deep with understanding and empathy. "There will be no involvement outside your family."

Danny almost snorted, torn between annoyance that the angel could read his mind so easily, and annoyance that the police could be headed off by the powers that be while he was trapped in heaven for three days for _paperwork_. In the end Danny only shrugged, a noncommittal argument as he heard Jazz talking his parents out of calling the police to report him missing.

It was like that, watching and waiting. He knew that Sam and Tucker had decided not to tell Jazz anything, to let her think that he'd parted ways with them and they had no idea. He'd found that out watching Tucker, and in more detail after the argument and worry around his kitchen table. Jazz, sweet, tractable, good Jazz, had snuck out of the house that night after her parents were asleep and prowled the streets of Amity Park to one Tucker Foley's house and proceeded to break in through his unlocked window.

It had nearly been worth dying to see the way Tucker had freaked out at the unknown shadowy figure bent over him as Jazz shook him awake. He really did scream like a girl sometimes. But oh, the look in her eyes when Tucker confessed that they that thought Danny was dead.

It had sent him to his knees.

And so it went, for two days he watched over his family, his friends, all but for Sam. She was still… too close. There was no way that he could bear to see her, to hear her voice. The window, ever compliant to his will, or so Manasseh had told him, did not show her, did not even hint at her. If he was about to unwittingly stumble onto her while someone else was with her the window would blank out until he'd picked a suitably 'safe' target to watch.

Besides, if he saw her from where he sat, it would be too close to telling her goodbye. He wasn't ready to say that yet, not to her, not now.

It was surprising when Manasseh finally appeared with Aziraphale and told him that it was time for his instructions. Danny hadn't even realized so much time had passed, no matter that he saw it in the window. No, he felt almost apart from it all, a feeling that he already knew he hated. He needed to go home; he followed the two angels willingly.

---

"I don't understand."

"Well, we didn't expect that you would. It's why we're taking the time to do this properly," Aziraphale explained understandingly. Danny narrowed his eyes at the angel as Aziraphale stared back nonplussed, the feathers of his wings ruffled at Danny's obvious hostility. "There are certain facts that you just can't get around. You are dead. In fact, you can currently be classified as an angel."

For a moment Aziraphale thought that Danny was going to burst out in yet another angry rant, much like the one that he had bent upon Manasseh and himself not long before when he was told that his ghost powers were, while not inactive, not exactly as they had been before. But, much to his surprise, the boy merely closed vivid blue yes and rubbed a hand across them before starting to laugh, a loud, full bellied sound that had both angels raising eyebrows as they looked at each other.

"You're telling… an angel… haha," Danny gasped as tears ran down his cheeks and he doubled over. "OH, that's funny. You're kidding right?" he asked as he wiped at his cheeks, shoulders still shaking with suppressed mirth.

At the silence Danny's laughter seeped from his eyes like ice melting in the desert. "You _are_ kidding. Right?"

"I think I'll let you field this one," Aziraphale said to Manasseh with a twitch of an eye.

"You're an angel," Manasseh said bluntly. "One of the heavenly host, seraphim, so on and so forth."

Danny stared at him blankly.

"You still don't believe?" Aziraphale asked. "After all of this, you still don't believe? Tell me, have you not been in discomfort since you arrived? Perhaps an itching, tingling sensation across your back?"

"How did you know? Danny asked, surprised. He hadn't even thought about it all that much other than a few shoulder rolls to try and ease the annoying itch.

"Wings, Danny, wings," Manasseh said. "Unless you were actually created at the Beginning, you grow wings before you enter."

"Wings? I don't have wings," Danny said, suddenly very sure that both angels were pulling his leg. With a few moments hesitation Danny reached over his shoulder, expecting to touch thin air. There should have been nothing there, his fingers should have met with no resistance in their quest for the nonexistent wings.

But that didn't happen.

Instead, Danny found his fingers smoothing along soft feathers, light and delicate, and then more firmly as he realized the he could, indeed, feel his fingers running down the curve of the wing. He closed his eyes and twitched, feeling it shudder through the length of wing that he was suddenly so aware of, the shift and flow of air as it sifted through feathers, cool as it slipped around them. another twitch sent both wings shuddering, feathers rustling and then settling as he consciously pulled them tight against his back, feeling the tips trailing along the backs of his calves through the jeans he still wore.

"This… is very strange," was all he could find to say when he finally did speak. "I have wings."

There was another moment of silence as Aziraphale and Manasseh looked at each other again. Aziraphale opted to break the silence with a droll, "It _is_ how things happen here."

"I have wings."

Manasseh blinked his gray eyes twice. "It's the way of things, Danny," was all he said. Then, "Right. Let's get you acquainted with the rules of Returning. It's a very delicate situation, you know."

Danny turned still stunned eyes on the gray angel. "I have _wings_."

"Yes, you do," the angels chorused at him. Then Manasseh chuckled as Aziraphale sighed. "Right, can we get on with it then?" Aziraphale asked. "We are on a schedule here."

"Schedule?" Danny asked.

"Yes," was the quick response as Manasseh held a hand out in front of him and a book appeared in it. It was bound in what looked like gray leather, but was much smoother than anything Danny had ever seen classified as leather before. "We have until the exact time you died today to get you home, after that it gets tricky."

"Yes, tricky," Aziraphale put in. "And if it gets tricky we'll have to have Him muck about in the way of things so that we can slip you back in."

"It's best not to ask," Manasseh instructed as he opened the book, carefully thumbing through pages of curving script that was completely unfamiliar to Danny's eyes. "First things first: since we've already explained to you that your ghost powers remain, albeit changed, we should probably tell you that you can't fly anymore."

"_What!"_

"He doesn't mean that you can't fly completely," Aziraphale interjected with a frown at Manasseh. "For someone who was urging me to mercy and understanding, you do seem to forget the fine points of interaction when you want to."

"Guys," Danny interrupted as he saw Manasseh gearing up to retort to Aziraphale. "Can I or can't I fly?"

"You can," Manasseh said with one last glare at Aziraphale, who was standing casually, feathers smoothing back out as he inspected the nails of his left hand. "But now you fly with wings."

"Oh, this is brilliant."

Aziraphale shrugged. "It could be worse."

"Right. How?" Danny asked, sarcasm tingeing his words.

"You could have gone downstairs."

"Ah. Point." Danny sighed and felt his wings settle once again against his back and legs. It was strange, to feel something that he was so unfamiliar with suddenly turning into an unconscious extension of himself. He could only assume that it was because of where he was, what he had become. He hated it. Absolutely hated it.

"Right, on with the rules. We're bound around even as you are, Danny," Manasseh said as his eyes skimmed through the gray book. "You're being sent back to protect your family, but I'm not allowed to tell you what from."

Aziraphale brushed imaginary specks from the shoulder of his shirt and strolled over to Manasseh and his book, peering and letting his wings flick open a tad as he read what was written. "That's not very fair of Him, is it?" Aziraphale asked, sending Danny even further into confusion than he already was. "After all, we've already dealt with this once before."

"So we have," Manasseh replied dryly. "And maybe some of us would still be down there after having dealt with it if we hadn't fraternized with the adversary."

Aziraphale narrowed green eyes, his jaw set at a stubborn angle that Danny himself knew he had worn many a time. "Crowley is _not_ the adversary. He's just misguided." At Manasseh's rolled eyes and he gave a noncommittal shrug. Aziraphale's wings lifted, spreading to an impressive span as Danny watched the angel suddenly become much more frightening than he had ever imagined one could be.

But it did explain why the first thing that angel's always said in the bible was, "Fear not."

"Crowley is _not_ the adversary, he did just as much to avert it as I did. In fact, he might have done more, considering that he's currently on Hell's hit list for what he did." Aziraphale mantled, and Danny took a step back, his own wings beginning to tense and spread in response to his sudden fear.

"_Aziraphale!"_ Manasseh said sharply, his eyes darting at Danny as he edged further back from the two angels. The tension was suddenly gone, and Danny let his wings relax again, but kept them ready for the flee instinct that had filled him moments before.

"My apologies, Danny," Aziraphale said suavely as he settled his own wings against his back, feathers smoothing and one hand flicking a piece of hair out of his face. "It's a disagreement of long standing; whereas I was present for the near-Apocalypse, some angels," and Aziraphale bent a snide glance at Manasseh at this, "weren't and have absolutely no idea of that which they speak of."

"Right," Danny murmured. "Anything else I need to know? Or can I go home now?"

It was a question Danny regretted wholeheartedly for asking as he was treated to a litany of rules and regulations concerning the practice of angels returning to live among the humans. Even more for the fact that he was half ghost, still. Apparently it wasn't something that he could get rid of, even in death, though it was almost comforting to know that he and Vlad weren't the only ones to have ever existed. Still, three wasn't a much more solid number than two.

More entertaining was the argument between Aziraphale and Manasseh about whether or not certain rules should apply since Danny was still in complete possession of his mortal memory. They did argue a lot. But at least there weren't many more occasion for Danny to want to fly off, ghost powers or not, he had wings to fly with. But they did wind down eventually with Danny's head aching at the information that had been piled inside it until it seemed to be leaking out of his ears.

"So is that it?" Danny asked, somewhat dazed. "Can I go home now? Please?" The plea was very nearly desperate as Danny looked at his angelic instructors, and Aziraphale smiled.

"Almost, dear boy. There's only one last thing."

Manasseh nodded. "It's the most important; you must adhere to it even at the expense of any of the other strictures that have been set for you."

"What is it?" If it hadn't been for the fact that he had no children and there was no possibility as an angel, he would have thought they were preparing to tell him to sign the souls of them over.

"No one can know, Danny," Aziraphale said gently. "You must hide it at all costs."

"What?" Danny asked blankly. "That I'm dead? I've been half dead for two years."

Manasseh shook his head. "No, that you're an angel now. You _must_ conceal it."

Danny arched a brow at the pair of them, thinking it more than a little absurd that they were telling him this. The amusement, the annoyance bled through him until he realized that it was showing in his wings, half spread and arched back from his shoulders. With a smirk he glanced back at them and reached back to casually pluck a feather, holding it out to Aziraphale and Manasseh.

"Right. Hide the fact that I'm an angel," he said with no small amount of sarcasm. "And if anyone asks about the wings I can just say that I'm Cupid."

---

**I feel that it's best to go ahead and acknowledge that certain characters have been borrowed from another literary piece, _Good Omens_ by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Aziraphale and Crowley belong to them, and if certain circumstances don't make sense for a while (or ever, considering that I'm not sure I can get it all in a round robin) I do recommend GO as an excellent read. So I guess that makes this a crossover of sorts…**

**cd**


	5. Chapter 4

Ravens Claws

4

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

He didn't know what to expect. It seemed like maybe the world would suddenly look different now that he was dead. Now that he was an angel. But it looked the same, the very same, yellowish white sunlight streaming down and bouncing off the rusty red brick of Casper High, making shadows out of nothing and nothing of shadows. He'd thought that maybe everything would be tinted pink, to resemble the infamous phrase about rose colored glasses.

It wasn't. It looked almost exactly as he had left it, though he admitted to himself privately that he'd never felt as conspicuous as he did right now. He'd look terrible, he knew, covered in blood stained clothes, lacking the backpack that he should have considering Manasseh had opted to send him to finish out his Friday afternoon of school. Students were lingering outside the building, around the front and at the courtyard to the side of the aging school.

So many people that he recognized, but none of them Sam or Tucker. And none of them looking at him despite the soul deep fear that someone would notice, point, demand an explanation of how he came to be from nothing, and where had he been for three days? But no one said anything, even as the bell rang and bored teenagers filed inside to continue with some of the most boring times of their lives.

Surely someone would have seen, Danny thought to himself. Surely someone would have had questions.

Then a suave voice at his shoulder whispered, "Fear not," and Danny cracked a smile. "So glad that I can amuse you, Danny," Aziraphale muttered as Danny turned his head to see the angel, this time wearing a neat suit of creamy white linen, complete with a matching fedora. He had a pale gray shirt underneath and a tie of darker gray knotted at his throat, black wingtips peeking from the hems of his pants.

"You look like someone who lost track of style a couple decades ago. Or more," Danny said with a smile.

Aziraphale quirked a grin back. "Crowley has improved my wardrobe somewhat," he replied.

Danny bit back the question of whom, exactly, Crowley was. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to know anyway, no matter how curious he was. Instead he glanced down at himself, face already filled with trepidation, knowing that the things that had happened to him in his ghost form could bleed over into his human form if they were bad enough. And he expected that they had been bad enough, considering that he had wound up dead.

But the sight that greeted him was completely unexpected. Appreciated, but unexpected, right down to the faded purple-blue backpack he was only just noticing in his left hand. His clothes were just as he had last worn them to school, not from it. There were no rips, no tears, no blood staining them. if not for the fact that every scar he had ever had was now gone from his body, and the faint fuzzy feeling itch from around his shoulder blades, Danny would almost believe that it was something that he had dreamt. A wild, unasked for nightmare that had cost him three days and too much pain in his heart to ever understand.

But the itch was still there, and he reached back unconsciously, surprised not to feel wings where he expected his fingers to meet soft white feathers.

"You'll have to will them out if you want to use them, my boy," Aziraphale explained. "For now they're… Let's just say that they're concealed."

"Oh," was all that Danny could think to say.

"No one sees us, no one knows that anything is amiss excepting that Danny Fenton," and Aziraphale bent a smile on Danny, "has been missing since after school on Tuesday."

"So it's Friday?"

Aziraphale nodded at Danny's question. "You have less than two hours left of school. So I'll be in touch if you need me, Danny."

"Wait!" Danny called as Aziraphale lifted up, feathers on his wings fluttering as they stroked the air steadily. Aziraphale paused and Danny brushed his hair back from his face. "How do I get a hold of you?"

Aziraphale bent a smirk on Danny and said, "You know how to whistle, don't you?" And at Danny's bemused smile he continued, "You just put your lips together and blow."

Danny could only lift his backpack to his shoulder as Aziraphale disappeared in a burst of bright light and a few misplaced feathers. He took a deep breath before mounting the steps to Casper High and taking his first steps as an angel through its eerily silent halls. The echoes bounced back at him, making him want to hackle at the sound—Danny was already more comfortable with his wings that he wanted to admit—and he continued on, taking swift and careful steps up the stairs to stop outside of his fifth period classroom, hand still and nearly afraid on the knob of the door.

It was just his luck that the class he was supposed to interrupt and settle into directly on his return from the dead (and did that make him undead?) was Mr. Lancer's. No doubt everyone would think that he had runaway. That he'd taken off and just couldn't hack it out in the cold, harsh world and crept back to Amity Park with his tail between his legs. Figuratively speaking, of course. An almost bitter smile twisted his lips.

If only they knew.

Danny took a breath and turned the knob, pulling the door opening with a soft whisper as Lancer's voice cut off and thirty-two pairs of eyes swiveled to him. He winced inwardly, forcing himself not to look to the back of the room, not to find the bright amethyst colored eyes he'd missed for three days, the murky jade eyes that were so steady as they stared, and said, "Sorry I'm late. I—"

But what? Sorry I'm late because I died? Sorry I'm late because coming back from the dead took three days? And hey! Did you know that heaven runs on paperwork, too? It's not just some evil underworld creation after all! Oh yeah. That would go over _real_ well.

In the end he only shrugged and picked his ways through the desks to collapse between two very familiar, very surprised, very relieved faces. The fact that on one side a firm hand reached over to grab his shoulder and squeeze was a relief, a blessing unasked for. And on the other side, a slender hand slipped into his own, and Danny closed his eyes as he just held it before looking over and seeing Sam for the first time in three days.

God. He loved her.

Class was awkward. More than awkward, with whispers, stares, and no clue about the new book Lancer had assigned them to read. Danny knew he failed the pop quiz for chapters one through five, but somehow, sitting between his two best friends, he just couldn't bring himself to care. And when the bell rang, while most of the students were filing out in a disorderly exit, Danny stayed behind.

Slim arms around his waist as Sam hugged him tightly, her face buried against his chest, stronger arms circling his shoulders making his wingmarks itch even more as he bit back the urge to let them free and relieve the annoying sensation. A group hug if he'd ever had one; it as all Danny could do to not cry. It was Tucker who broke the silence.

"Where have you been, Danny?" His voice was edged, but with concern instead of anger. "It's been three days!"

_I've been dead._

Danny closed his eyes against the sudden wave of sorrow that shot through him, made him feel like there wasn't enough air to breathe—even if he only breathed out of habit and not necessity. His chest hurt like iron bands had wrapped around it and he shook his head at Tucker as he gently pulled away from Sam, letting his fingers slide along the bare skin of her arms.

He swallowed once before taking up his backpack and considered what he could say. with a pained smile he just shrugged. "Let's just say I got trapped and it took me three days to get back."

"Ghost Zone?" Sam asked with worried eyes as she followed him and Tucker out of the class and to the last period of the day.

"Yeah," Danny said quietly as they entered the pandemonium of a high school hall. "Something like that."

---

His parents weren't there when he opened the front door of the house and stepped hesitantly across the threshold. Or rather, if they were there, they weren't in sight, and knowing his parents Danny knew they were most likely down in their lab taking out their frustrations of their runaway son on whatever hapless and hopeless invention they had cooked up while he was gone.

No doubt it was one designed to rip him apart molecule by molecule. Or maybe not, Danny realized. _I'm not really a ghost anymore,_ was the thought. Almost pleasing if not for the implications of newly divine origins. But there was an upside to almost everything. Maybe being able to duck his parents' inventions was the up side to this.

But there was Jazz, huddled over a thick sheaf of paper at the table, books scattered about her as she continually moved between one and the other and sometimes scribbled on the paper as a finger moved along the line of words in the book. Danny dropped his book bag to the floor with a soft thud that had Jazz straightening and jerking around, eyes wide with her startlement before she realized that it was Danny and no one else.

"Danny!" she shrieked and was out of the chair and by his side looking him over for injury, insanity, anything and everything. The squeak that she gave when he wrapped her in a tight hug was nearly worth what had happened, but he let her go as he heard the pounding of feet rushing up the lab stairs.

"Ghost Zone," was all he said to her as his parents surged through the kitchen and to him, mouths open and goggles hiding their eyes. Jazz nodded at him once, to show him that she understood, and without a second thought Danny had stepped to his parents and hugged them both, split between his father's immense height that really wasn't so immense as Danny himself grew to catch up, and his mother's more petite build.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, knowing full well that they would think that he _had_ run away, and then come home because he realized it wasn't the answer to whatever problem he was having. But better that than the alternative. He didn't want to see what it would do to them if they knew that their son, their only son, the boy who was hugging them so tightly right now, wasn't really real. No. He was dead. Undead. An angel.

An _angel_.

It wasn't calculating, it wasn't anything but honest. But it helped, and Danny knew it, especially when there were no forthcoming explanations from Danny at his parents' demands. Jazz understood. N her own way, Danny knew that she knew, even if she thought it was related to ghost fighting and Danny Phantom and being stuck in the Ghost Zone for three days. Better to let her assume; he had a secret he had to keep.

Grounded. Not for life, but until they decided it was over. Danny bit back a laugh as he mounted the stairs to his room. "It's not the Fenton Stockades, at least," he told himself, his backpack dragging along as he went quietly into his room and closed the door firmly behind him.

He could see his friends. They could come over. At least they hadn't taken his friends away from him. He picked up his cell before he realized what he was doing and dialed Sam out of habit. She was breathless when she answered, and he smiled at her worried, "How'd it go?"

"Not as bad as it could have," he answered honestly. "I can see you guys, but only if you come to see me."

"Give me enough time to collect Tucker," was her quick response, and for a moment Danny wondered if she wanted to see him as badly as he wanted to see her.

Goodbyes said Danny dropped the cell to the bed and ran a hand through his hair, already tired of the pretense he was keeping up. It was so difficult not to tell Sam everything, to let Tucker know exactly what was going on. It wasn't fair to them. He snorted. It wasn't fair to him, either, but anything was worth it to be able to come back and spend a little more time with them. To protect them—he could never forget that was why he'd been allowed to return.

Danny clenched his jaw and tugged his door open, heading for the bathroom and a much desired shower to wash away a little of the tension he couldn't escape. To try and let the water sluice the memories of heaven away, even if just for a little, maybe he could pretend that it had never happened, could pretend that he wasn't dead. That he didn't have wings, and the damnable itch that went along with hiding them from mortals.

He tugged a towel out of the linen closet next to the bathroom before going in and locking the door behind him. The water went on, hot enough to start steam rolling through the bathroom within moments, and Danny stripped his shirt off before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Smooth skin. Too much of it, and he ran a finger across his right collarbone, where there should have been a short scar, maybe an inch long. There was nothing.

Nothing, no traces of the abrasion that should have been on his left shoulder where he had hit a brick wall very hard during a battle. Not a mark from any ghost fight, and Danny rolled up his right pants leg to look at his knee through the curls of steam that was beginning to wreathe him now. It wasn't there. The jagged scar from falling on a piece of glass when he'd been learning to ride his bike wasn't there. He'd been seven or eight, and even that was gone.

Fingers strayed to his left forearm. There _should_ have been a massive scar at the least, a gaping wound that went to the bone at most. There was nothing. Smooth, unblemished skin. Danny traced fingers along the bluish veins that ran beneath the skin, and then stopped. His fingers circled his wrist, but it still wasn't there, what he was looking for.

Desperately his hands sought his throat, pressing against it and still not finding what he searched for, and then dropped to press firmly on his chest exactly where his heart was, waiting to feel the faint beat of his blood being pumped through his body. He'd always had a heartbeat, even after the lab accident that had killed half of him. Sure it had been weak and thready in his ghost form, and not nearly as strong as it should have been while he was full human… But it had been there, it had been his.

And now it was gone.

Danny's back met the cold wall, damp where the steam had started to condense on it, and he slid down it to sit against the floor, blue eyes wide and blank as his brain struggled with it. He was dead. He was really _dead_. He'd known it before, but this wasn't… This wasn't the same.

As the steam built around him Danny dropped his head to his knees, hands still pressed where he'd wanted to find his heartbeat, and cried.

---

It was disturbing to see Tucker hitting on Jazz. Not that he was, technically. Well, not like he usually did, Sam amended. No, this was Tucker being subtle, too subtle for her not to be disturbed, because Jazz didn't even realize that Tucker was hitting on her. He was good. She had to admit that. Real good. A simple question and Jazz was talking to Tucker, animated and excited, eyes shining as she extolled on her favorite subject: psychology.

That was even more disturbing, Sam realized. Except for a difference in subject matter, she reminded Sam rather frighteningly of her father when he blathered on about ghosts. It was too much.

"You guys keep on," she worked into one of Jazz's pauses for breath. "I'm going to go get Danny."

There was a nod from Jazz, a raised eyebrow from Tucker, and Sam wrinkled her nose at him as she turned and headed out of the kitchen and to the stairs, climbing them slowly and quietly as the relief continued to feed itself and reinforce the emotion. He was safe, he was alive, he was home. It was all she had wanted, all that she had begged for, prayed for.

She didn't pray often. In fact, she almost considered herself lapsed in her religion. But sometimes, she just liked to think that she saved it up for really important things that she couldn't do, that could only be left up to someone much higher than herself. It worked better that way, to do what she could, be silently thankful, and only ask—beg—for help when it was too much for just her. Plead when it was too much for her and Tucker both.

She never asked when it was all three of them, because when it was all three of them they tended to make it happen, whatever it was, and come through like heroes.

His door was closed, but that hadn't deterred Sam in years. If it were locked that was a different story, but it wasn't, and Sam turned the knob and opened the door, taking two steps through before realizing that the door really should have been locked. She'd have to forgive Danny the compromising situation later; three days trapped in the Ghost Zone could make anyone forget to lock a door.

But right then all Sam could do was turn red. Very, very red.

He was fresh from the shower, water beading his back, running down the slopes of his arms as he rubbed a towel across his hair. There was another towel tied at his hips, low enough that she could see the defined curve of his hip bone as it disappeared around the curve of his body, and water trickled down beneath the edge of the towel. It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that every time Danny moved the towel across his head it made the muscles along his back, his shoulders, in his arms themselves, tense and roll beneath his skin.

And that was when Sam noticed that it was her Danny, but not _her_ Danny. Her Danny had scars. She knew this, she'd seen then, she'd been the one to mend what had made them often enough that she could probably keep count of them by sight. And there were none, but for two curving marks that followed his should blades. Not scars exactly, and she took a step forward to look more closely.

Not scars; marks, yes, but not scars. Shades darker than his skin, a bronzy tint against his pale European pallor. The floor creaked beneath her, and the towel stopped moving across Danny's head. It dropped and frantic blue eyes flew to hers as Danny turned to face her, hiding what she'd been looking at even though she knew it was on her face, the questions, the demand for an answer.

The demand that never came as Sam looked at him and realized that the pristine skin of his back, barring the two bronzed marks at his shoulder blades, extended around. There were no marks. No nothing, and Sam raised frightened lavender eyes to his. Try as she might, Sam could find no words.


	6. Chapter 5

Ravens Claws

5

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

"Sam," Danny said almost lamely as he gripped the towel around tightly around his waist. A cool breeze from the hall wafted across the room and goose bumps broke out across his skin, but the chill wasn't from the cold air, it was from the look in Sam's eyes. He couldn't quite read her expression, and it scared him.

Sam closed the door behind her and walked forward hesitantly scanning his body with an intense look in her eyes, making his stomach flip flop several times. How was he going to explain to her about his scars? And what was he going to do if she touched him? It was bad enough that he was alone with her in his room, alone and undressed, fresh from the shower, but the feelings he had for her were incredibly strong and he didn't think the impure thoughts running through his mind were appropriate considering his current angelic state.

"Sam," he said again as she reached forward and took the hand that wasn't holding onto the towel around his waist for dear life, and turned it palm up. She ran her thumb over his wrist and he tried to pull away, frightened that she'd realize he didn't have a pulse, he didn't need more trouble heaped on his head. If he couldn't explain where his scars went, he definitely couldn't explain why his heart wasn't beating.

She tightened her grip, refusing to let go as she slid her hand up his forearm, looking for something, he knew what it was immediately, a little V shaped scar. He'd got it on the playground in fifth grade in a fight with Dash. Sam liked it's odd texture so she was always rubbing her finger along it, but the scar on his forearm, just under the bend of his elbow, was gone just like the rest.

"I can't tell you," Danny told her breathlessly, hoping to bypass her questions. Instead she slid her hand up his bicep looking for more scars. He closed his eyes, unable to resist the pleasure of her warm hand, now hands, as she placed her other palm on his waist, warming his chilled skin. He shivered and hung his head, hoping to hide the scared and needy expression on his face. It would be so easy to pull her close and drown away all his emotions and fears in her arms.

He gasped as her exploration moved from his shoulder to his collarbone and down his chest to his stomach then back up his sides to the only scars he had left. He groaned as she ran her hands along his wing marks. He felt like he was going to go insane, and holding in his wings was difficult, yet it felt so good, the pressure of her fingers easing the tingling itch for the first time since the cursed things grew. She moved behind him, following the line of the scars as he quivered beneath her touch.

"Sam," he said on a tortured breath when her hands slid down over his butt, still covered by the towel. His eyes went wide then he realized she was looking for the bite mark, he'd forgotten about it until now.

He had been painfully embarrassed as Sam and Tucker examined the injury he'd received after being bitten in the rear end by a tiny ghost Chihuahua, who made Cujo look sweet in comparison. Having to submit to Sam's first aid of the area made the situation ten times worse. She had made teasing comments about his cute butt, and he felt like he was going to die. He felt like he was going to die now, except, well he was already dead, wasn't he?

She pulled the towel down making a humming sound as she smoothed her hand over where the scar should have been, then down along the curve of his butt. Danny forced himself to move away from Sam, pulling the towel tight over his waist and valiantly fighting his growing desire for her. He felt weak in the knees and he couldn't be held responsible for his actions if she kept touching him like that. He figured that she didn't intend anything by her examination, her intentions were innocent he was sure, they'd never done anything more than share a few passionate embraces, but still her touch was driving him crazy.

"I-I need to get dressed," He told her, hating the way his voice was shaking. "I'm cold." He hoped that would explain his reaction or most of it. Shouldn't the part of him that desired her have been taken away from him when he became an angel, been as dead as his heart?

Sam watched as he walked over to his bed and grabbed his boxers. He looked at her worriedly, but she only stared back, her lilac gaze meeting his with a mischievous challenge.

"I'll be right back," he told her hoarsely as he scooped up the rest of his clothes, and ran into the bathroom. He dressed at light speed, feeling both disappointed and relieved to be covered and no longer open to her perusal of his now nonexistent scars. Sam was standing where he'd left her when he returned. He hoped she was finally ready to speak.

"Sorry," he told her as he ran his hand through his still damp hair.

Sam took a deep breath and walked up to him, looking him straight in the eyes. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Danny," he answered then swallowed hard at the look of disbelief she sent him.

Sam shook her head. "I don't know who you're trying to fool, but you're not Danny." Her voice started low but began to raise slightly as she pushed him. "What have you done with him?"

"Nothing," Danny answered sadly as he held her angry gaze and spread open his arms. "Nothing Sam, it's me. I'm Danny. I'm still me. It's just something…I can't tell you what happened. Please."

She pushed at his chest, forcing him to step back. "What have you done with him?" she questioned again. "Why are you doing this? Where is he? Is he hurt? Is-is he dead?" Her voice was shaking with fear, anger and despair, and Danny felt and understood her emotions just as keenly as if they were his own.

Danny took hold of her arms to keep her from pushing him again. "I'm me Sam. I promise. I am Danny." He let go of one of her hands so he could wipe away the tears rolling down her face, but she slapped him, hard. He reeled back and put his hand to his face, looking at her sadly, and strangely wasn't angry at all.

"If you're Danny," Sam growled, pushing way from him as he put his hand to his cheek. "Go ghost."

"I'm not going ghost just to prove I'm me!" Danny hissed. Truth be told he was scared to try to go ghost, who knows what would happen, he'd probably go angel instead, then she'd either find out his secret or never believe he was himself. "I'll do anything else. Just ask. As me something only I could know."

"What's my middle name?" Sam asked her eyes two angry amethyst flames, burned through him and he wanted to comfort her somehow, but instead his mind raced, unable to find a way to make her believe he was himself. Her middle name? He didn't know her middle name. She'd never told him, he'd never asked.

"I don't know," Danny answered in frustration. "You never told me."

Sam bit her lip for a moment then questioned. "Who threw the rock who broke Mr. Lancer's windshield?"

Danny chuckled. "That would be Tucker."

"And who took the blame?"

"Me," Danny sighed as he walked closer to her. "Because I was the one who failed to stop it during target practice." She stepped forward and put the top of her head on his chest. Danny sighed in relief as she slid her arms around his waist.

"Who kissed who first?" she asked then took a deep breath and moved her head onto his shoulder.

Danny moved so he could lift her face and look into her eyes. "You kissed me first," he answered, looking into her sorrowful eyes. "It was a fake out make out, to protect me from Valerie." He sighed as he brushed away the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Tears from her were a very rare occurrence, and they hurt him, frightened him, tore at his heart, how was it possible to love someone as much as he loved her? How could he not tell her what happened? He wished to God he could tell her.

"Do you want to know my blood type?" Danny asked smiling at her roguishly, doing his best to lighten the situation a little.

"Yes," Sam replied, Danny could feel that her anger had melted away and was replaced with sadness and fear.

"Ecto positive," Danny answered referring to a joke about his green blood when he was in ghost mode. All the tension suddenly left Sam's body and she trembled. She believed him, or desperately wanted to. Danny wanted to kiss her, or maybe he needed to, all the grief and pain he'd endured for the past few days almost melted away as he held her in his arms, and he just wanted to hold her and pretend none of it had happened, that his life was unchanged. He wanted to cry too, but decided he'd spilled enough tears recently and maybe it was time to suck it up.

"What happened?" Sam started to ask, but Danny stopped the question the best way he knew how, he kissed her. Oh man he was going straight to hell for this, wasn't he? Even worse, he was going to have to come up with a plausible explanation for what happened, she wanted details and kissing her every time she asked wasn't going to work for long.

---

Sam had grown to love Danny's scars. She hated how he came by them, but she still loved each and every one of them, and now they were gone and Danny was hiding something. Sam hated the fact that he was keeping something from her when there had never been secrets between them before, not if it was something big.

She wasn't dumb, she knew Danny kissed her to stop her questions, and she wondered as she smoothed her hand along his jaw line, noting the absence of a scar he'd given himself the first time he tried to shave, how far he was willing to take things in order to keep from answering her questions. She was almost tempted to push it…or push him back on his bed and kiss him silly, among other things. She had been so scared that they'd lost him. She'd missed him so much.

She had been eaten up with regret too. It had taken several years and a lot of denial and blushing, but finally they'd acknowledged that something was going on between them and they should admit it.

They'd been calling themselves a couple for maybe three weeks when he disappeared, she was sure he was dead and she hated that she hadn't told him she loved him. She hated that the most she had the courage to do was share a few slow heated kisses with him during the rare moments Tucker had actually left them alone.

"Sam I'm sorry," Danny told her as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I just can't explain what happened. I-I was stuck. Can we leave it at that?"

Sam nodded her head, deciding that pushing the issue further wouldn't help anything, at least for now. Danny seemed distressed as it was. She feathered a kiss along his neck looking for a pulse point to press her lips against, she needed to feel the beat of his heart to assure herself that he was back, that he was really alive, and she hadn't lost him.

Danny shivered and moved way from her probing lips, and she stifled a sob of frustration. She wanted to cling to him, to press her skin against his, even if it was too perfect now. She slid her hands under his shirt and up his back, to trace the scars on his back. He claimed her lips with his own again, this time slipping his tongue past her lips and groaning as she lightly traced her fingernails up and down his back.

Sam made a quick decision as she started moving backward, pulling her with him until she could feel the bed against the back of her legs. She turned and pushed Danny onto the bed, climbing over him as he lay back, her passion filled eyes meeting his worried blue as she straddled him then sat on his stomach. It hurt her that he looked so uncertain, almost scared. She searched her memory. He had never been shy about kissing her after the first couple times, in fact he was always the aggressor and she was always the one who stopped him before things went too far.

Maybe he wasn't her Danny. He was a Danny, but not her Danny. Her Danny had scars, horrible, beautiful scars all over his body from fighting ghosts. She knew every one of them by heart, because she had a hand in healing them all, they were a part of their history together and now they were gone. Was his love for her gone too? Could she accept him as hers? Did she even want him to be? Did he still want her?

"Sam," Danny said sadly as he searched her face. Her dark full eyelashes were laying against her pale tearstained cheeks and all he wanted was for her to look at him again, because looking in her eyes was almost enough. She said nothing as she almost angrily began to pull off his shirt. He thought about protesting, but decided to just let her do what she wanted, within reason of course. She wore a unhappy expression as she began re-examining what she could of his wing marks.

"It looks like someone reupholstered you," she began softly as another tear rolled down her cheek. "Like they ripped off the old skin, slipped a new one, then sewed you up."

Danny chuckled at the thought and Sam smiled wistfully at the feel of his stomach muscles clenching in laughter. "Maybe they did. Maybe that's how they got rid of the scars."

Sam frowned again as she moved down so she was sitting on his legs, then trailed her fingers down his stomach. "Who are they?" she asked softly as her fingers lingered on the button of his jeans.

Danny swallowed hard. "You know," he said his voice started trembling again. Sam flicked the button of his jeans open, her eyes holding his as her fingers slid the fly down. "It's always, they. They say you shouldn't run with scissors. They say you shouldn't eat raw eggs. You know them…err…they." Sam gave him a look of displeased disbelief as she smoothed her finger along the waistband of his boxers.

"And you're okay now?" she asked sadly as Danny tensed beneath her, but not in a good way. His eyes closed as if he was steeling himself against something unpleasant and she knew he didn't want her to do this, to touch him, but he wasn't going to push her away. His obvious decision to just grin and bear her attention hurt so much more than a flat out rejection would have.

"I guess," Danny answered then sighed with relief as she moved away and lay down next to him, sighing heavily in exasperation.

"And you're not going to tell me what happened?" Sam questioned coolly. Danny rolled onto his side so he could look at her. He smoothed the hair off her face and took another shaky breath as she met his eyes. Would it be wrong to tell her that he loved her? Or would it just make things that much more complicated?

"Isn't it enough that I'm here now?" Danny asked as he traced her ear with a finger tip, smiling as she shuddered lightly. He had missed every little thing about her right down to the tiny little freckle behind her ear. He put his finger on the spot right behind her earlobe and remembered the first time he kissed that freckle, and how she had moaned and shivered in his arms, then he mentally beat himself over the head for his continual impure thoughts.

Sam looked up at the ceiling. "I want it to be enough," she told him tiredly.

"Me too," Danny replied as he moved to kiss her. Sam sighed in relief against his lips and pulled her to him, parting her lips, inviting more than the chaste kiss he originally intended. Danny groaned then slid his tongue along her lower lip, fully prepared to pull her beneath him and ease the ache growing in the pit of his stomach and ever lower, and sate his desire to touch her, to be with her.

"Am I interrupting something?" Tucker asked from where he was standing at the door. Danny jerked away from Sam like she was on fire and they both sat up. Danny quickly grabbed his shirt his expression filled with guilt, and Sam shot Tucker an evil look.

"Why do you have such sucky timing?" Sam asked bitterly as she straightened her clothes, though they didn't really need straightening, because Danny hadn't really a hand on her other than to kiss her. She ground her teeth in frustration as she speared Tucker with a fiery glare.

Tucker shrugged his shoulders, impervious to Sam's anger, and sent Danny who looked extremely rattled, a worried look. "I think my timing is impeccable," he began slowly. "But, you actually don't have me to blame this time."

Sam ran her fingers through her hair then looked at Danny, he had his shirt on and his back to her now, but she knew where his new scars were and wondered if she should tell Tucker about them now or wait.

"Who do we have to blame?" Danny asked almost casually as he buttoned his pants. Tucker smirked and Danny gave him another guilty look.

"Jazz," Tucker answered then frowned as he sat down on the chest beside Danny's bed. His usual cheerful expression darkened as he fastened his gaze to the floor and sighed deeply.

"Did she get sick of your flirting with her?" Sam teased.

"She had a date," Tucker answered his face reflecting his obvious disappointment. He adjusted his had and pulled out his PDA. "I didn't recognize the dork."

"Well," Sam began. "You could ask her on a date and then…"

"What?" both Tucker and Danny said in unison.

"What?" Sam asked her lavender eyes filled with devious mirth. "I think Jazz would be better off dating Tucker than anyone else in the world."

Danny gave her a look of disgust and was about to say something more when Tucker picked up a large white feather from the bed. Danny's eyes widened in fear and he almost put his hands on his back to make sure his wings hadn't decided to make an unwelcome appearance.

"What's this?" Tucker asked as he spun the feather in his finger tips. Danny reached out and took it gingerly from his friend, trying his best to mask the fear in his eyes with one of interest. It wasn't that hard, he was curious about the feather. Where had it come from? Him?

"Where did it come from?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know," Danny replied worriedly. "I-I haven't been home in three days."

"Maybe a bird has been sleeping in your bed," Tucker teased

"Or something," Sam said as smoothed her finger along the feather, it felt silky beneath her fingers.

"It doesn't look like a swan or a goose feather," Tucker remarked

Danny wanted to hide it. Shove it away in one of his drawers and hope that another one never appeared. He frantically searched for something else to say, anything at all, when his mother, another individual with impeccable timing, called them down for dinner, asking if she should expect Tucker and Sam to stay.

"Actually," Tucker began as he shoved his PDA back into his pocket. "I can't stay. I have relatives coming over for dinner and Mom will serve my head on a silver platter if I don't show." He looked at the almost crushed expression on Danny's face. "Sorry, dude."

"It's okay," Danny told him as he stood. "I understand."

"Hey Sam," Tucker called as they started out of Danny's room. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. She looked into his soft green eyes questioningly, expecting questions about Danny.

"Thanks," he said.

Sam gave him a confused look. "For what?"

Tucker's skin darkened in a blush. "What you said about me dating Jazz."

"Oh!" Sam said then smiled. "Don't mention it, Tuck."

"At least to him," Tucker said, referring to Danny who was half way down the stairs before he realized they weren't behind them.

"Come on," he said in playful irritation. "No talking about me behind my back."

"Oh yeah right," Sam laughed as she squeezed Tucker's arm then made her way down the stairs. "Like you're the absolute most important person in our world and we talk about you all the time." She frowned wistfully recognizing the truth of that statement and wondering how healthy it was to allow her life to revolve around Danny.

---

Sam waited until late that evening to call Tucker. He teased her for a few moments about the compromising position he'd caught them in then was saddened at the distressed tone of Sam's voice.

"He has no scars, Tuck," Sam said calmly. "They're gone. All of them. I-I'm not entirely sure he…really is Danny."

Tucker cracked up laughing. "Has no scars?" he asked between chuckles. "You know this how?"

"I looked," Sam admitted and Tucker hooted.

"Did you enjoy your examination of Danny's body, Sam?" Tucker asked suggestively.

"You're a pervert," Sam answered angrily. "It wasn't like that. His skin is perfect now, Not a mark on him, except his back…He's not Danny."

"Don't jump to conclusions. We don't know what happened to him," Tuck told Sam gently. "You know how Danny is, when he's ready to talk, he'll talk. He seems like the same Danny to me, just…he's been through something really bad, I can tell, can't you?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Yes."

"And he's back. He's with us. Give him a break," Tucker continued. "If you still think he's not Danny after a few days then we'll do something."

"A few days might be too late," Sam complained. "What if he needs our help now? How can you explain his scars being gone along the new ones he has now?. That's not normal Tuck."

"Yo," Tuck said then laughed. "What about Danny is normal? He's half ghost! Come on, Sam we're used to weird and unexplained things happening, it's just a day in the life of the best friends of Danny Fenton."

"Fine," Sam said as she pinched the bridge of her nose. A huge headache was throbbing behind her eyes and she was tired, she hadn't been sleeping because most of her time was spent worrying about Danny. "But would you do me a favor and start researching the scar thing?"

"Sam," Tucker groaned. "All we have to go on are what, a few missing scars and a couple new ones? What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"Just look," Sam said. "I'll look too."

"So," Tucker began in a teasing suggestive voice. "What happened after I left?"

"You're a sleaze," Sam growled playfully. "Nothing happened. We didn't even go back to his room. We watched a move with Jack and Maddie, then Jack drove me home because they refused to let Danny out of the house to walk me." She sighed, feeling a very unsettled. Her Danny, the Danny she knew would have jumped at the opportunity to take her upstairs and make out without the fear of Tucker interrupting. Not this Danny. He was almost too shy to put his arm around her as the sat beside each other on the couch, it was almost like they'd taken five steps back in their relationship.

"Sorry," Tucker said absently. "How come Jazz didn't drive you?"

Sam laughed at the question behind Tucker's question. "Because she wasn't home yet," she answered then sighed as Tucker sighed. She decided that they were both pathetic.

"So you're going to do research right?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Tucker replied tiredly. "But not until in the morning."

"I'll call," She said as she laid back on her bed and closed her eyes. "We'll go harass Danny."

Tucker laughed. "Why don't you go harass Danny alone for awhile and I'll be over later?"

Sam laughed a little. "I don't think Danny's going to appreciate your sentiment." She frowned and fought back the tears pricking against her eyelids. "I don't think he wants to be alone with me."

"Then you'll just have to change his mind about that, won't you?" Tucker asked devilishly.

"Good night, Tuck," Sam said pointedly.

"Night, Sam," Tucker replied. "And cheer up, he's back, we haven't lost him!" Tucker didn't give Sam a chance to respond as he told her bye and hung up.

"Oh Tuck," Sam whispered as she switched off her bedside lamp. "I hope you're right."


	7. Chapter 6

Ravens Claws

6

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

The weekend did not go as Sam wanted, but it wasn't like she hadn't expected it. She had told Tucker as much during the conversation the night of Danny's return. He'd alternately pushed her away and pulled her closer all through Saturday and as much of Sunday as he could. It had hurt her badly, but she'd done her best to hide it, to mask the confusion with a passive nonchalance until she'd finally had enough. Sunday night, the house had been vacated of all parents, and Tucker had been making eyes at Jazz.

And Danny had hidden in the backyard at the mere thought of being alone with her.

Sam had fumed, sitting there listening to Tucker and Jazz until past dark before finally just tossing a wave and heading for the front door, one ear aimed for the backdoor and the hope that Danny would come in, just in time, and the other tuned farther inside of her than she wanted to think about at the moment. No. She'd had enough.

Her boots moved up the stairs more quietly than anyone but she or Danny had ever thought they would, and she slipped into his room, closing the door behind her and moving surely through the dark to his bed. It was made, something that made her wonder again at what had happened—her Danny had never made his bed unless forced to. And usually not even then. And here it was, made.

Worried eyes found the glowing red face of Danny's alarm clock and she watched as it ticked over from eight, to eight o' one, two, ten. And at eight o' twelve she heard the skid of wood on wood as the backdoor opened and closed quietly. There wasn't a pause in the animated conversation that was on in the living room as she listened to his footsteps on the stairs, heavy and slow.

And Sam's breath caught in her throat with sudden fear as the knob of his door jiggled, turned and opened. For a moment she saw him there, silhouetted by the light from the hall before he moved in, blocking the light before it was cut off by the closing of the door. She knew that he hadn't seen her, and she closed her eyes for a moment as she contemplated what she was doing.

Footsteps across the floor, echoing in the darkness as voices drifted through the door, muffled by the wood but still animated and enthused. _All I want is…_ But Sam couldn't finish the thought. For the first time since Danny had returned, she wasn't sure what she wanted. Her Danny, to be sure. The Danny who had no problem with touching her, kissing her. Showing her that he cared in a dozen miniscule ways.

A Danny that was far different than the one who was moving in the darkness in front of her. This Danny, _this_ Danny was a creature who would give her the most desperate, longing, heated looks. Speak softly because he was afraid of speaking to her. Like she was the enemy. Like he was afraid of her, period. This Danny, who would move towards her, touch her hand, arm, the small of her back and then pull himself away suddenly, eyes wide and loathing screaming through his eyes.

A light flicked on, his desk lamp, and Sam blinked rapidly against the sudden brightness that made her eyes go shiny with tears. And then they were wide as Danny startled and turned to her, looking like a deer caught in a set of headlights, knowing that his own doom was imminent and still unable to get away. Worse yet, like she had broken his desire to get away.

His chest rose and fell, hurriedly, like he couldn't catch his breath, and Sam knew that she couldn't find her own as she sat perched on the end of his bed, only a few feet away from him.

"Sam." Her name was a strangled whisper from his lips, husky and dense with yearning that she could feel knifing through the air between them. "What are you doing here?"

What _was_ she doing there? It wasn't a question she was sure she could answer. But then, as he looked at her, her throat tightened and the tears that the sudden light had brought to the surface were suddenly thick in her throat and threatening to spill over. The sudden ache in her heart drove a hand to press tightly to her chest, trying to drive the pain away as she looked at the boy she loved more than anything.

"Don't you want me anymore?" she whispered past the tightness in her throat, the tears spilling over, and she cursed herself silently for her weakness.

The conflict that slipped across his face was terrible to watch. The wanting, the denial. Such hurt, such regret. And then desire, tinged with resolution as he crossed the space between them in two swift steps and dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands going to her cheeks, the pads of his thumbs smoothing the tears away as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Oh, Sam," he whispered as his mouth sought hers, found it and kissed her gently.

"Please, Danny. I don't want to lose you," she murmured as she closed her eyes and let her hands slide to his shoulders, further up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

She didn't protest as he lifted her up, her body steady in his arms, or do more than whimper low and needy in her throat as he laid her out on his bed, following her down and pressing her half into the mattress as his lips broke from hers and slid across her jaw line to press to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, seeking and kissing the freckle that always made her shiver beneath his ministrations.

Her voice slipped out in a low moan, and she felt Danny smile against her neck as his fingers moved up her sides, sliding along pale skin beneath her shirt, dragging it up high enough that she arched her back, the lifted shoulders and head as she raised her arms so he could drag it off of her and send it flying across the room. His mouth moved hotly down the slender column of her neck, trailing tender kisses, gentle bites over her collarbone until she could feel the heat of his breath on the slope of breast.

He stopped, and Sam's heart stuttered as she wondered again whether he was her Danny or not. Her Danny wouldn't stop of his own accord. She knew that, and she knew that her Danny knew that. After all, the only reason they hadn't gone further than they had was because of Sam, and her insistence that they'd only been dating for three weeks. No matter that he wanted her, or that she wanted him. Sam closed her eyes.

And then opened them as Danny's lips pressed against hers, and his icy blue eyes met her without fear, without worry. No, now they were full of wonder, desire. They were full of her, and Sam had to choke back a sob of relief as his eyes slipped closed and she felt his tongue hesitantly trace the shape of her bottom lip before she opened to let him deepen the kiss.

Her hands moved along the frighteningly smooth skin of his sides, tugging his shirt up as she moved, and Danny groaned into her mouth as she worked the shirt up to his chest, wanting to pull it off but not wanting to interrupt the way his hands were moving across her body, force him to shift the way he was cradled between her legs, her skirt rucked up to her waist now and one leg looped around him as she writhed beneath his body.

He moved against her, and she moaned at the electric touch, and then he froze.

"Danny?" Sam asked, and this time he heart didn't stutter so much as stop at the look of utter terror on his face. And then she saw stark white against the jet of his hair, and lifted a trembling hand to brush it away, stilling as she looked, and then plucked it free.

A feather. A white feather, much smaller than the one they'd found on his bed Friday night. But a feather nonetheless. Dozens of them, drifting down around Danny as he gasped, and then jerked away from her, panic screaming through his movement. She drew herself up, amethyst eyes locked on his pale blue, and then let her gaze stray to the bed. So many of them, larger than the first feather, smaller than the second that was cupped in her hand.

Sam held the hand out, eyes afraid. "Danny?"

The only answer he gave her was to run. For his door, not even taking the time to open it but using the barest touch of his ghost powers to run through it, and then the pounding steps up the stairs to the Op-Center as she leaped up, following him, crying, "Danny! Stop!"

Shouts followed her from downstairs as Sam wrenched the bedroom door open and raced after her boyfriend, her almost lover, and more footsteps racing after her. And when she reached the metal deck of the Fenton's Op-Center she let out a startled gasp. He wasn't there. Another mad dash forward to peer over the edge, and nothing below her on the ground. Then her eyes scanned the skies looking for the familiar streak of black against the sky.

Again nothing, and Sam dropped to her knees, not caring that her knees were bruising on the deck. She gasped. Feathers. More feathers, and some of them dotted with tiny threads of blue. _Like the shirt he was wearing,_ she thought numbly as she gathered several in her hands and stared.

"Sam, what's wrong?" the breathless question as Jazz stumbled out onto the deck and stopped in her tracks when she saw Sam kneeling in her skirt and bra.

And Tucker's thundering steps halting as he nearly ran into Jazz and gasped out, "Sam, where's your shirt?" The amusement loud, and then draining away as she climbed to her feet and turned to them, crying again, and not even knowing it.

"We were… There were more, Tuck," and she held out her hands to show him the feathers. "There were more, and he ran away. Something's wrong," she whispered brokenly as Jazz came to her and drew her close, one arm around her Sam's shoulders as she turned her face into it, trying to smother her fears in the comforting hug.

"Something's very wrong, Tucker," and this time her voice was even less steady, closer to hysterical as she stood there. "And he won't even tell me what it is."

---

"How are you adjusting, Danny?" Aziraphale asked as he walked next to Danny on his way to school Monday morning. "You're not meeting your friends. Is something wrong?"

"Peachy," Danny muttered as he kept his eyes on the sidewalk and avoided Aziraphale's piercing emerald gaze. He figured he was lucky he'd figured out the trick to keep the other angel—and how weird did that sound?—from sneaking about inside his head. Well, much, anyway. He could keep some things to himself.

Like the fact that he'd nearly fallen from grace, and he'd only been back for three days.

Like that fact that he wasn't sure if he cared if he did.

Like the fact that he'd rained feathers all over his bed, the deck of the Op-Center, and much later on over the city of Amity Park as he flew for hours trying to relieve any of the stress that tensed his being to the core.

"I know something is wrong, Danny. you needn't hide it from me," Aziraphale cajoled him as Danny sped up, trying to tune him out. Questions he did _not_ want to answer. God only knew what would happen if anyone found out how precarious his newest secret was. Of course, he realized with a wry smile. God already knew, being God and all.

"I said nothing is wrong, alright Aziraphale? Can we just let it rest?" Danny finally said on a sigh as he turned to look at the other angel, eyes weary.

"If you insist."

And so they continued in silence along the sidewalk until Danny felt, more than a heard the low rumbling underneath his feet. Nearly to the corner that he would turn at to find Casper High, and a thundering roar was building behind him. On instinct Danny turned, one hand ready for an ectoblast, and his wings poised just beneath the surface of his skin. Just in case.

There was a motorcycle coming up the road, at speed, and the rider wore all black. And even more odd when, just as Danny backpedaled to the corner, getting ready to disappear in case it was a situation he couldn't handle, the motorcycle came to a dead stop, a feat that made his eyes widen considering he'd've thought it was doing at least fifty just before. But it stopped dead, right in front of Aziraphale, and the rider shifted the bike—a Harley, Danny noted—into neutral and turned the engine off.

Then he lifted the helmet and tugged a black bandana off, smoothing hair that didn't look a bit out of place before tossing a cocky smile at Aziraphale. With a slight crinkle of his nose that made his sunglasses ride up the bridge of his nose, the biker drawled, "Hello, Angel."

And Aziraphale clapped his hands together in delight. "Crowley, you sneaky serpent you! What have you been up to?" A more serious tilt to his eyes and he continued, "I thought you were trailing young Adam around."

"Not so young Adam, anymore," the biker tossed out. "He's twenty-eight, and this is more punishment than anyone deserves."

"What are you doing in my neck of the woods? And on that ghastly machine?"

The biker grinned brilliant white teeth, and said, "I borrowed it from someone out on the West Coast."

"Crowley, you didn't," Aziraphale gasped. The smile widened and Aziraphale ran a hand across his face. "You nicked a Harley from a _Hell's Angel_?"

The biker, Crowley Danny identified him now, shrugged and swung off of the bike, smoothing the black jeans he wore and adjusting the fall of his fitted leather jacket. If he hadn't seen it, he'd never have known they hadn't come straight from a dry cleaners.

"Leastways it wasn't one of the _other_ Hell's Angels."

"Ah. Good point." Aziraphale flushed a bit and turned to Danny. "Right, introductions. Danny, this is Crowley, Crowley, Danny."

Danny raised an eyebrow and Crowley tossed him a toothy grin. "Ah, the Prodigal. Lovely day isn't it?"

"Eh?" Danny would have kicked himself, but he couldn't help but notice the similarities between the angel and the man in black. And then he recalled the day he had been released from Heaven, the argument that had taken place between Aziraphale and Manasseh. "Are you an angel, too?" he asked hesitantly.

Crowley slid his sunglasses down his nose, and Danny was pinned with a yellow stare, serpentine and enough to make him shiver. "Not," Crowley said with some satisfaction, "anymore."

"Anyhow, why _are_ you here, Crowley? You're supposed to be with Adam," Aziraphale interrupted, as much because he wanted to know as wanting to save Danny the realization that Crowley, while in fact a demon, wasn't just a demon. A Fallen Angel, to be precise, and more than once he'd heard that Crowley had taken the scenic route to Hell. Personal pleasure all the way, and anything else was incidental.

He could believe it. He'd known the wily serpent since the Beginning.

"I'm here, Angel, because yon Prodigal has slipped." Crowley pointed at Danny, and Aziraphale turned in surprise. "His friends, the little Anchors, are digging. And your chap is now all over the radar."

"Please tell me that this is another one of your nasty little pranks."

"He's priority downstairs, and I've got good knowledge that you ere assigned to him for a reason." Crowley's voice was quite serious, but his tone was more like he was ordering breakfast, and Danny was surprised that the man could be so casual talking about Hell like he was.

"Danny," Aziraphale said worriedly. "Please tell me that Crowley has lost his mind."

Danny sighed and looked down. "I've, uh, been having this problem since I got home on Friday."

"Well, what is it?" Aziraphale's voice was almost acid and Danny winced.

"Can you do that thing where no one can see us?" he asked, blue eyes turned up again. He felt a tingle across his body and glanced around. "That's it? We're good?" and when Aziraphale nodded he sighed. "Is it normal?" The desperation and confusion were screaming through his entire body, and he ran a hang through his hair, making it messier than usual.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, and then back at Danny. "Is _what_ normal?"

Danny bit his lip, and then he let go of his wings, let them form with a whisper from the wingmarks on his back. And Aziraphale was smacked in the face with dozens, nay, hundreds of flying white feathers. "This!"

Aziraphale arched one eyebrow and looked over at Crowley, who was calmly picking feathers from his hair. With a chuckle, Aziraphale followed suit, and dusted his hair before plucking a couple of smaller feathers from his mouth. "Well, yes. All feathered things molt."

"Oh great," Danny moaned in annoyance. "So now I'm a bird, too."

It was more than either Angel or Demon could take, and the two started chuckled as Danny glared at them, furious and, though he refused to admit it, almost amused. "I am _so_ glad that I could amuse you for the morning."

"Danny," Aziraphale said as he brushed a feather of his shoulder, controlling the laughter that he wanted to give sway to. "You aren't a bird. You are, however, an angel. And angels, especially new angels, molt when they're stressed. It'll taper off after a bit. A century or so."

"WHAT!?"

This time Crowley chuckled alone. "Don't listen to him. He's read too many terribly written prophesies to be trusted. It'll taper off as your body adjusts."

"My body is dead. It has to decompose, not adjust."

Aziraphale laid a gentle hand on Danny's shoulder. "Sometimes, things are not what they seem, Danny. you'd do well to remember that." Then he straightened, tucking his white fedora back on his head. "Now, best to wrap the wings away. Time for school."

---

It was amazing, Danny decided, what not actually sleeping could do for someone who'd never had the time for sleep in the first place. Ghost fighting had always taken up too much time for Danny to actually be able to focus on school. It wasn't that he didn't like school… Well, actually, he didn't. But a great deal of that came from the fact that he was tired all the time. And it really did suck having to go to detention all the time when he fell asleep in class, especially since he was falling asleep because he was trying to protect his home.

But angels did not have to sleep. And Danny found that catching up in school was easier done that said. On Monday he aced two pop quizzes and gotten a nearly perfect score on an Algebra II test. And on Tuesday he had aced, totally aced, the test in Lancer's class and nearly (again) aced a test in Spanish. And now he was having to put up with the phone calls.

Last night there had been four phone calls from teachers asking about his grades and the sudden upswing. There had been the expected questions about drugs, gang affiliation, this that and the other. Danny had heard everything, he'd sat invisible at the kitchen table as his mother was bewildered on the phone with all of them.

And there would probably be another call tonight, he mused. It was Wednesday. There was a History test, and he knew that he was going to do well. The subject might have been boring in school, but as far as Danny was concerned, while he was reading it from books, it was a never ending story of humanity. Maybe it was his divine status that made him to curious about what Aziraphale and Crowley called the human condition, but it really was fascinating the things that mankind had done.

And Danny just _knew_ that he was going to blow the essay half away. He already had a topic in mind, though he wasn't sure what his teacher was going to make of it. _It will be another drug inquiry,_ he thought. Roman government was the section they were currently studying and the Caesar's in particular. Most people would go with conventional leaders.

Danny was going to write about Caligula.

It was always entertaining to write about insanity, especially when one was skirting the edges of it themselves. And Danny was. He was quite sure of it, because Aziraphale and Crowley were barely leaving him alone. They preferred, as they liked to say, to keep an eye on him. Help him control his molting habits.

If they only knew. But with those two nearby he hadn't even tried to spend more time with Sam. And wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Every time he was around her, his mind went straight to hormones, and shouldn't he have left those behind? He'd asked himself way too many times since he'd come back from Heaven, and still had no answer. It wasn't like he could just walk up to Aziraphale and ask him.

Crowley would probably give him a straight answer without being embarrassed, but what Crowley knew, Aziraphale learned shortly. The two were thick as thieves, and Danny wouldn't even figure out why. They'd mutter, wave a hand, say something about 'for old time's sake' and promptly start bugging Danny about controlling his wings. Because they just didn't want to be controlled.

He'd left feathers everywhere most of the day on Monday. He knew that Sam and Tucker had seen them, had at least realized that he had something to do with them. That didn't stop him from playing stupid, a state which he pretended to very well. He didn't like it, didn't like lying to them, but he had to. Even when it hurt them. He could see it. Especially in Sam's eyes.

Danny knew that she was positive that he was avoiding her. Danny knew that it hurt her. He'd seen her crying too many times in the last five days than he ever wanted to admit. He didn't walk with her to school anymore. He didn't walk her to her classes in the halls. He didn't really talk to her at lunch, or when they had a shared class.

And he was cutting her out of his ghost fighting.

Both of them, but Tucker was taking it all better than Sam. Of course, Danny wasn't dating Tucker, and he knew Tucker thought Danny was avoiding hang time with him because of the Jazz thing. It would have been true if Danny had actually allowed himself to think about it. But he hadn't. Any of the rare time when Danny wasn't doing something related to life—homework, school, ghost fighting—he was thinking about Sam. Thinking about Sam in ways that an angel shouldn't think of.

Way that an angel shouldn't actually know.

But it sure as hell beat thinking about anything else. The bloodless wounds, the way he never wore down in battle anymore. Not that it didn't hurt, when he was sliced or diced or made julienne Phantom. But it certainly didn't stop him. And there was no way he could have anyone around for that. The wings were hard enough when the ghosts saw them, though none had had the chance to ask him about them yet. They started, but the second they opened their mouths it was too late, and Danny took the opening.

And it beat thinking about the way he was walking to school, right now, and as alone as he'd never been before.

God. He missed her.

---

The cement of the stairs was cold underneath him, but Tucker didn't move. One, because he would have lost face to Sam, he was lounging across several like the cold didn't seep through her skirt. Two, because moving would have forced him to take his eyes off of Danny. And that wasn't something he was about to do, because there was a mystery to solve. The mystery of Danny's missing three days, and the two men who seemed to be where Danny was if he wasn't at home hiding in his room.

Grounded. But still, Danny was certainly using it to hide.

He'd been avoiding both of them, and Sam's worry wasn't something Tucker could just ignore and get away with it. Not when she had steel toed boots. Not when she was right. Not when something was really, truly, terribly wrong. Besides, seeing Sam the way she had been Sunday evening before Danny disappeared until the next morning… No. he needed to know why Danny would do that.

And it wasn't like he could even tease Sam about seeing her half naked. Sort of half naked. She'd kill him. _Jazz_ would kill him. And he'd probably kill himself.

"You see it?" Sam's voice was quiet, barely heard above the general noise of the students around him.

He nodded. "It's hard to miss. Other people are talking about it, too."

Sam sat up, shifted closer to him and leaned her head against Tucker's shoulder, her violet eyes never leaving her boyfriend where he stood across the way, talking to the man in white, and the man in black. "He doesn't eat unless we remind him to, and even then he usually just plays with his food."

"He refuses to go ghost in front of us, and the only sightings of Danny Phantom have been from the ground while he fights at a high altitude. Not exactly reassuring." Tucker chuckled a little. "I could almost wish that Valerie's dad hadn't moved her out of here. She'd have been able to confirm that it's Danny Phantom."

"He's never tired. His grades are improving. And he never falls asleep in class, and always pays attention." Her voice was quiet as it carried to Tucker's ears.

"Don't forget the feathers. The feathers and those two. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum."

"I won't, Tucker." Her eyes stayed locked, and three figures were oblivious.

---

**There has been a slight change to timeline to accommodate the plotline. Please not that where it said in chapter one, concerning the gang becoming seniors very shortly, it has now been pushed back. We are at the beginning of their junior year of high school, and directly before Halloween. Adjustments to already posted chapters are being made, just trying to save everyone confusion and having to reread. Unless you want to.**

**cd**


	8. Chapter 7

Ravens Claws

7

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

Tucker sat in the living room of the Fenton house, on the couch, waiting for Jazz. He would like to call her his Jazz, except all which was really between them was some heavy flirting, several very heated intellectual debates and Tucker's attraction for her and two or three heart stopping kisses which left Tucker feeling confused and frustrated.

"Our relationship is based on our mutual concern for Danny," she had told him quite seriously a few days ago after questioning what was happening between them. Tucker had blinked at her in confusion and then was ready to accept her answer as a typical odd Fenton statement, when she silenced him with a kiss, their first. Unfortunately, the had been interrupted by Sam running up to the ops center, half naked, after Danny who had run away, leaving Sam in tears and both Jazz and Tucker confused and worried.

Tucker was not about to question his luck. Whatever it was which brought Jazz Fenton into his arms, his best friend's sister, the girl he'd gradually been developing a crush on forever, he was glad for, even though it was because something was very wrong with Danny.

Jazz smiled at Tucker as she descended down the stairs and he sighed. Just seeing her was like, complete satisfaction. He felt he was a total sap for thinking that way, but he really couldn't help it. Her smile alone filled him with giddy joy, and the fact that her smile was directed at him, well he was in heaven.

"I need to go talk to my mom," Jazz told him as she bent down and kissed his cheek. "And then we'll go." Tucker nodded his head. They had a date, it was just going to the library to look up a few books he'd hoped would help them crack the mystery of what happened to Danny. A date was a date and he'd get to spend time with her, and possibly kiss her again. He really wanted to kiss her again.

"There's no rush," Tucker replied as he watched her walk out of the living room and into the kitchen. He smiled admiring her slender figure as she retreated, then jumped and shrieked as he turned and found Danny watching him, his eye stony and cold.

"Danny," Tucker started as he laughed nervously. "What are you up to? I didn't know you were home. Hi."

"Hey," Danny said as he sat back on the couch and surveyed Tucker a moment.

"What are you doing here?" Danny finally questioned coolly as he looked toward the kitchen.

Tucker blinked at his best friend for a moment then cocked his head to the side. "You know Danny, before you disappeared, it wasn't unusual for me to like be here all the time, or Sam either. I don't know why you're asking."

"Keep your hands off my sister," Danny warned softly and Tucker's skin darkened as he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"I-I've never laid a hand on her," Tucker stated, it was a half truth, sort of, depending how you looked at it. He'd held her hand, he'd threaded his fingers through her hair and caressed her face as they shared their few and very brief kisses, but that was about it.

Danny flushed angrily and was about to accuse Tucker of lying, which for some reason really rankled Danny's angelic sensibilities, when Maddie's voice drifted in from the kitchen. She was talking to Jazz.

"I really don't know what's gotten into your brother," Maddie could be heard saying. Danny looked back toward the kitchen door while Tucker silently thanked God for rescuing him from certain death. "I know I shouldn't be complaining. I shouldn't be worried. His grades are phenomenal, he's incredibly obedient and respectful…"

"But?" Jazz prompted.

"But nothing," Maddie replied. "Since he returned from running away, your brother has been a perfect angel."

Tucker frowned as he watched the color bleed from Danny's face. Danny immediately looked away and focused his attention down at his shoes; shoes Tucker had recognized as Danny's favorite. They'd had a hole in the toe, but Danny refused to get rid of them. These shoes were almost spotless. Clean. Perfect.

"Hey," Tucker said as he pointed at Danny's sneakers. "You finally got new shoes." He looked up and met Danny's frightened gaze.

"Looks that way doesn't it?" Danny asked as he laughed nervously.

Tucker took a deep breath. "Talk to me Danny," he started. "You know damn well you can tell me anything. Dude, what happened to you? What's going on? Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Danny asked irritably as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the kitchen door again, willing Jazz to appear and save him from Tucker's line of questioning. He'd give Tucker Jazz's hand in marriage and more if he would just stop.

"Breaking Sam's heart for one thing," Tucker accused. "She deserves an explanation, Danny."

Danny closed his eyes and shook his head. "There is nothing to explain," he said softly. "I'm sorry Tuck. I guess something has changed. I've changed. I'm different now."

Tucker leaned forward a moment and looked at Danny who sat with his head hanging, his dark hair hiding his face. "We've been a team for a long time," Tucker began in a no nonsense tone. "Sam and I are so attuned to you and your angsty little moods that it's…It's like we're part of a network, a webbing, and we can feel the vibrations coming off of you, Dude and they are not good!"

Danny dug his fingers into his hair and closed his eyes. The nightmare he was living kept getting worse and worse. How could he be expected to keep this secret? How could he hurt his friends? Sam? A kernel of anger lodged itself firmly in his no longer beating heart and he set his jaw in determination. He was going to confront Aziraphale next time he saw him.

"Okay Tuck," Jazz said as she walked out of the kitchen then paused and looked at Danny. "Are you ready to go?"

Tucker stood and nervously rubbed his hands down his khaki cargo pants then looked from Danny to Jazz. She showed no signs that Danny's presence affected her, she simply walked up, put her arm in Tucker's, and smiled up at him.

Tucker turned his attention back to Danny who had lifted his head to look at his sister. The terms Tucker would have used to describe Danny's expression were shattered, broken, lost.

"Are you going to be all right?" Tucker asked, wanting to reach out and comfort his best friend somehow, but he was also afraid to touch Danny on some level. He wasn't frightened…but…

"I'm fine," Danny answered. As he closed his eyes. "I think I'll just…go on patrol or something."

Jazz bit her lip and gave Tucker an apologetic look. "You're more than welcome to come with us," she started. "I think I can talk mom into granting a reprieve since I'll be with you…"

Danny smiled softly at his sister. His demeanor toward her was a great deal more loving than it had been in the past, she didn't seem to get under his skin the way she used to, he seemed to appreciate her, though he didn't seek her out. It worried her more than his prior behavior ever did.

"I'm not going to tag along on your date," Danny told her in an almost teasing tone. Jazz didn't blink or blush she just smiled for a moment.

"It's not a date," she told him cheerfully. "We're just going to the library to study." Danny watched Tucker's face fall then sighed. He decided that he'd talk with Jazz later about playing with his best friend's heart. Then he frowned at the thought of seeking Jazz out to talk to her about her behavior. This angel business was really messing with his head.

---

Tucker was quiet as he rode with Jazz in the driver's seat. He tilted his head on the seat and looked at her. "What did you mean?" he asked when what she told Danny became too much for him to bear.

"What are you talking about?" Jazz questioned as she eased into a parking place, turned off the car then looked at Tucker.

"This isn't a date?" he asked, feeling foolish for asking.

Jazz smiled. "No," she told him. "But that doesn't mean…" she paused and blushed. Tucker raised his eyebrows and Jazz shot him a teasing look and got out of the car. Tucker followed her and she continued to look at him in amusement.

"What?" Tucker finally asked, trying to be annoyed, unfortunately his heart was melted by the look in her eyes.

"A date," Jazz answered. "Is when you pick me up in your car, even though it's a piece of junk and I have qualms about your limited driving skills, and we go to dinner and a movie or something romantic like that."

Tucker laughed and shook his head. "A date is you and me, going somewhere together, alone." He felt being alone with her was romantic.

Jazz smiled then took his hand as she started to reason out Tucker's motives. "You called and asked me to come to the library because I the librarian will let me into the basement, so that you can look at those weird old books and…"

"Not true," Tucker told her as he squeezed her hand. "I called you because I like spending time with you…" Jazz smiled at him a moment and then her demeanor changed to extremely serious as they entered the library.

Amity Park had been a focal point for paranormal activity for as long as anyone could remember, though until the ghost portal was opened, the paranormal events were much more subtle. Tucker and anyone else doing paranormal research, were in luck because of the extreme amount of paranormal activity in the town, the librarians of Amity Park were given to collect books on the paranormal and boasted several large and antique tombs in their archives unfortunately to even look at these books, let alone read them, you needed connections.

"I called Doris," Jazz told Tucker softly. "Asked her if it was all right if we came by to look at the archives." Tucker looked around and spotted Doris Hawthorn, a dour and grey woman who wore her hair in a severe bun. She seemed to ascribe to the job of librarian as a life choice, not just a career, and she seemed very stereotypical and stern, until she smiled.

Tucker shuddered. "Why?"

Jazz smiled. "She said to just go down to the basement," Jazz answered. "So we don't have to go talk to her, scaredy cat." Tucker smiled then let Jazz lead him into the library and down several flights of stairs.

"So what are you looking for?" Jazz asked as she walked into the archive room and ran her fingers over the spins of several of her favorite books then turned to Tucker, who had reached into his pocket for his PDA. Jazz gave him a look of reproof then walked toward him and looked at the screen.

"Think they have this one?" Tucker asked as he watched her read the screen. He inhaled the fragrance of her strawberry scented hair and smiled. He would never have thought that Jazz was the type to use strawberry shampoo. He saw her as more the unscented, no nonsense type. Unfortunately, thoughts of shampoo and Jazz together along with an image of her in the shower put Tucker in a daze.

Jazz read the screen then turned and looked at Tucker. She smiled at the dreamy expression on his face and forced herself to resist kissing him. They were here to figure out what happened to Danny, not make out. She sighed then moved away from Tucker and walked to the rolodexes lined against the wall.

Tucker shook himself out of his daze then frowned as he looked at the archaic cataloguing system. He looked at Jazz again then smiled. "Why hasn't Doris computerized this yet?" he asked. As he leaned against the table next to Jazz. "It'd be so much easier if…"

"Rolodexes don't suffer from power outages, crashes or viruses," Jazz said then laughed at the look of disgust on Tucker's face.

"They're not half as easy to back up," he pointed out. "If this place caught on fire…"

Jazz shook her head and laughed as she put her hand on Tucker's arm then kissed his cheek, smiled at the look on his face then headed down one of the rows of shelves to find the book in question.

"Why did you laugh?" Tucker asked as he caught up with her.

"If this place caught on fire," Jazz answered. "The cataloging system would be useless because there would be no books."

"Insurance," Tucker said quickly. "How would they prove what they lost?" Jazz raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled back smugly. Jazz gave him an exasperated look then frowned.

"It's not here," she said.

"What?" Tucker asked in alarm. Jazz ran her finger along the books then paused. "How strange! It's out of order," she said more to herself than to Tucker as she pulled the heavy tome from the shelf.

Tucker reached over and took the heavy book from her arms and she shook her head. "You're chivalry is charming," she told him as she took the book back. "But I'm hardly a helpless maiden, Tuck." She gave him a heated look then walked to a near by table, then sat and began to peruse the book. Tucker growled something under his breath and she smiled wider as he sat next to her.

"So tell me," she said cheerfully as she examined the red fabric cover of the book. "What are we looking for?" She flipped it open and sighed, the pages were yellowed with age and she was worried about tearing them. The handwritten title page read, "The Physiology of Mythological Creatures and other Beings. April, 1723"

"This book is priceless," she told Tucker softly as she looked at the black ink on the title page. "It's probably the only one in existence."

"So don't break it," Tucker warned her. She bit her lip and carefully flipped one thick yellow vellum page. The intricately illuminated pages left her awestruck. Part of her yearned to be a scribe back in the days when books were works of art. She smiled, books were definitely her first love.

"I'd never break it," Jazz answered as she turned the pages of the book reverently and Tucker watched jealously. He never thought that he'd wish such a thing, but the look on Jazz's face and the way she gently turned each page made him yearn to turn into a dusty ancient book, just so she would love him the same way.

"You didn't tell me what you're looking for." Jazz said softly as she sat back and brushed her hair back over her shoulders, twisting the flame colored locks so they would stay in place behind her back instead sliding back over her shoulders and getting in the way.

Tucker took a deep breath and resisted running his fingers through Jazz's hair. "I don't know," he answered wistfully. "We don't have a lot to go on."

"Okay," Jazz started. "Let's be methodical about this." She closed the book and turned to Tucker.

"He's different," Tucker told her. "You know that. It's like he'd been replaced by someone else, but with his memories or something."

"Changeling?" Jazz asked then opened the book, looked at the table of contents. They both read through the description of a changeling eagerly then frowned.

Tucker read allowed. "A changeling will appear as the human it substitutes, but gradually grows uglier in appearance and behavior. The creature becomes malformed, ill-tempered, given to screaming and biting. It may be of less than usual intelligence, but can also be distinguished by its cunning."

Jazz shook her head, "That doesn't describe Danny, besides changelings replace small children, not half grown teen boys." She looked at the illustration of a changeling in true form and shivered.

Tucker tapped the notation at the bottom of the page. "Maybe he's a shapeshifter?" Jazz checked the table of contents then flipped to the appropriate page.

"I wish this was more straightforward," Jazz groaned as her eyes scanned the page. "This tells us nothing. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"His scars! They're gone, and Sam says he has two new ones on his back and…and then there are the feathers." Tucker said as he was suddenly struck with a memory. He blamed Jazz. Simply being in her presence seemed to completely short circuit his thought process.

"Feathers?" Jazz asked then blinked. "What kind of creature with feather's would take over Danny's life? A harpy?"

"Aren't harpies all female?" Tucker asked. "It has to be something else."

---

He stood in the shadows, he was nothing more than a shadow himself, a part of the darkness, cool and calm. He materialized as he watched Tucker and Jazz pour through the book for answers.

Crowley cocked his head to the side, then put the cell phone, which materialized in his hand, to his ear. He waited a moment then said in amusement, "We've got trouble, Angel."

"Trouble?" Aziraphale asked dryly. "With you around, we always have trouble."

"Your charge's Anchors are digging," Crowley said as he adjusted his black fedora. "They're getting dangerously close; in fact I expect they'll stumble onto Danny's secret at any moment."

Aziraphale was silent on the other end of the line for so long that Crowley was forced to clear his throat. "What are you doing, Angel? Consulting with the Lord Almighty Himself?"

"Stop them," Aziraphale said quickly. Crowley raised his eyebrows and Aziraphale sighed. "I mean, would you be so kind as to divert their attention from discovering Danny's secret?"

"And how do you propose I do that?" Crowley asked as a pleased grin grew on his face.

"I'm sure you can think of something," Aziraphale replied. "Where are they?"

"The library," Crowley answered. "Perusing through dusty and ancient books. Maybe you can come and distract them yourself. Old books are your thing right?"

"I'm with my charge at the moment," Aziraphale answered. "And I fear I am quite unable to tear myself away."

"Fine, fine," Crowley said sleepily. "I'll just be going on my way…"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said firmly. "Please."

"Only for you, Angel," Crowley purred then smiled like the cat who stole the cream as the cell phone vanished from his hand and he focused his attention on Tucker and Jazz. He walked forward, confident in the knowledge that they couldn't see him, and put his hand on the book before they could turn the page.

He looked consideringly between Jazz and Tucker then leaned toward Jazz. "Wouldn't you just love to kiss him?" he asked. "Look at him, sitting there, absorbed in that book. You know you think it's sexy. Do something about it. Don't think about it. You think too much. Just do it."

"Tuck," Jazz started as she turned and looked at him. He turned to her and she moved forward, pressing her lips against his. Tucker's eyes flew open wide for a moment then closed as Jazz moved closer.

"Kiss me," she ordered. He complied without complaint and pulled her into his lap to feast upon her lips.

Crowley watched them for a moment, an amused grin on his face then headed for the main floor of the library to find Doris.

Doris gave him a sour glare as he walked up to the circulation desk and she took off her bifocals, which hung on a silver chain around her neck. "Crowley?" she asked softly.

"Doris," he said then leaned against the desk and smiled like the cat who ate the canary after stealing the cream.

"What do you want?" Doris asked as she narrowed her eyes at Crowley.

"Nothing," he answered then smiled. "I was just wondering how long you've been allowing hormonal teenagers to make out down in the basement." Doris said nothing. She simply sucked in the corners of her mouth as she walked from behind the desk and made her way downstairs. Crowley smiled then disappeared, fete accomplished.

---

Aziraphale smiled at Danny weakly as he finished his call with Crowley then cleared his throat as he put the cell phone behind his back allowing it to vanish into thin air.

"It is important," Aziraphale said not missing a beat from his conversation with Crowley to what he was telling Danny before the cell phone appeared in his jacket pocket and began ringing. "That you learn to control your stress level, else you will have continued difficulty with these…feathers." He picked a smallish feather out of Danny's hair.

"People have noticed," Danny told Aziraphale. He wanted to ask who had called and what they wanted, but the urge to be polite stopped him. "What am I supposed to tell them? I'm collecting feathers for pillows?" Aziraphale chortled happily for a moment then realized Danny was serious.

"I realize that certain aspects of your new status as an angel are disturbing to you," Aziraphale began. Danny snorted. There was a huge list the things which disturbed him about this whole situation.

"But getting yourself all up in arms isn't going to solve anything," Aziraphale continued. "In fact, it's quite certain to make thing worse."

"So what do I do about it all?" Danny asked. "All these conflicting feelings? The fear? The guilt?"

"The girl?" Aziraphale asked then sighed as Danny looked down in embarrassment.. Aziraphale paced around the room and Danny sat as he retracted his wings and changed back to human form.

Aziraphale looked up at the ceiling and said, "There are others who are much more equal to this task." He returned his gaze to Danny who was watching him worriedly.

"You have been sent here for a good reason, Danny," Aziraphale began. "We're not sure what that reason is as of yet, but I have complete faith that all will end well."

"But..," Danny started, not really wanting to discuss his feelings for Sam with Aziraphale. He wondered if the angel even understood.

"Let's take a look at this problem for a moment," Aziraphale began in a very Jazz-like analytical tone. "You were sent here and told to continue on with your life as if nothing had changed. You've been told not to tell others of your current situation."

Danny looked at Aziraphale tiredly. "How can I continue with my life like I was? I'm different."

Aziraphale held up a finger to silence Danny. "You have been given a task. You have been sent here to resume your life as if nothing has changed, I think it would behoove you to do so, perhaps relaxing back into who you were, and are will alleviate a great deal of your stress."

"What if you're wrong?" Danny asked worriedly. He didn't think Aziraphale understood the situation at all, otherwise his tips may have been a little different.

Aziraphale shrugged his shoulders. "I have been charged with your well being. If I am wrong, then I will deal with the consequences." Danny looked at Aziraphale for a moment then nodded his head in understanding, but not wanting to put Aziraphale's standing as an angel at risk. Now Danny was feeling just a little more stressed than he was before.

---

Jazz sat in her car with Tucker beside her, feeling mortified and embarrassed. Tucker calmly buckled his seat belt then looked at her. He noticed the almost accusing look on her face as she returned his gaze, and frowned.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked feeling extremely embarrassed but not displeased.

"Next time you feel the urge to kiss me," she said seriously. "Can it not be in a library?"

"Me? Kiss you?" Tucker asked then smiled. "You kissed me."

Jazz shook her head as she kept her expression serious. "Tucker why would I kiss you, you're my brother's geeky friend."

"And you're my best friend's irritating older sister. Two years older," he chided. "I think considering all that, you're the more responsible party. As to why you'd kiss me, well isn't it obvious? I'm devastatingly handsome and you just can't resist me."

Jazz laughed in amusement and shook her head. "Well you're partly right," she replied as she put the key in the ignition and paused.

"Part right?" Tucker asked in confusion as he looked at Jazz. She blinked at him slowly then smiled in a seductive way that made a lump form in Tucker's throat.

"I'll let you think on it," she told him as she put on her seatbelt and started the car.

"Well, you are the responsible party…" Tucker started feeling a little confused, but relaxing himself because of Jazz's light mood. Tucker's problem was that even though he wasn't stupid, Jazz could run mental circles around him, and often did. He really wasn't sure where he stood, he was always off guard and sometimes just felt like a pathetic puppy who she was allowing to tag along because he was useful.

Jazz gave him a sideways glance and smiled flirtatiously and Tucker knew that sometime, in the near future Danny was going to kill him for laying several hands on his sister.

Tuck was about to say something to that effect when his cell phone rang. He jumped guiltily as if it was Danny's hand from on high coming to slap him senseless.

"It's Sam," Tucker told Jazz nervously, then answered.

"Did you find out anything?" Sam asked.

Tucker felt his cheeks begin to burn and he looked at Jazz out of the corner of his eye. "No," he answered. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Sam asked her voice betraying her disappointment and sadness. "You told me you had a lead, Tuck."

Tucker watched Jazz as she drove out of the library parking lot. "We got kicked out of the library."

"Kicked out of the library?" Sam asked in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because Tucker's delusional," Jazz said loud enough that Sam could hear her.

"What did you do?" Sam asked and Tucker wished he could pull his hat down over his ears.

"I didn't do anything," he replied. "It was all Jazz's fault."

"Like I said," Jazz said loudly. "He's delusional and potentially skitzo. Are you paranoid, Tuck?"

"Yes," Tucker answered. "I am." Jazz laughed and Sam sighed on the other end of the line and said something about flirting and being disgusting.

"Sorry, Sam," Tucker said. "We still don't have answers."

"Thanks for trying at least," Sam told him sadly. "Did you see Danny today? How is he?"

"He's good," Tucker said. "You know, Danny but better…Sorta." His light mood began descending as his heart went out to Sam.

"Why don't you call him?" Tucker suggested as he looked at Jazz who nodded her head as she turned into a deserted parking lot.

"Tell her to go see him," Jazz added, then paused. "She just shouldn't try to seduce him again." Tucker gave her a look of horror and she gave him a pleased smile. Sam who was now feeling very embarrassed, told Tucker she'd think about it and ended the call.

Tucker sighed then frowned as Jazz parked. He looked at her warily and she smiled at him wickedly as she unclasped her seat belt.

"So," she began softly. "Where were we?" Tucker blinked at her as she climbed out of the driver's seat and into his lap, he wondered for a moment as she kissed him, if whatever had taken over Danny was infecting Jazz too, or maybe it was just that insanity ran in the family. He decided he wasn't going to question whatever it was as he held her close and kissed her back, some questions were just better left unanswered.


	9. Chapter 8

Ravens Claws

8

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

If Jazz had known that Sam had been contemplating that very thing, she might not have been so smug. Sam was almost positive that she could find some of the answers to whatever secret Danny was keeping by triggering another panic attack from him. But she wasn't cruel. And she wasn't going to try and trick him into bed just to find out what he was hiding. For mindless pleasure, quite possibly.

But not to poke around in his secrets.

But she was there anyone, one finger pressing the doorbell as she waited fro someone to answer. The RV was missing, which meant his parents weren't home. So it would have to be Danny, unless he'd slipped his leash for some ghost fighting. But she hadn't heard about anything, and the town was relatively silent as she stood there in the failing light, waiting for her boyfriend to answer the door.

She heard the thudding of him racing down the stairs and could only stare in surprise when the door opened and Danny was standing there. Danny, yes, but she'd never seen him wear anything but his signature white shirt with the red logo in the center, except for the times they'd gone to the beach or the occasional school dance. But now he was standing there with a half buttoned up forest green shirt over a plain white tee, and a pair of jeans that looked almost new, if she hadn't seen the slight fraying at the heels where his socked feet were standing on them.

"You, uh, look nice. Going somewhere?" she asked before he could say anything.

He shook his head. "What're you doing here, Sam?"

The hurt that tinged her face practically screamed inside her head. "I didn't know I needed to have a reason to come and see my boyfriend. Who just happens to be my best friend and one of the two people in the world I hang out with."

He flushed a little and stepped back, gesturing her in. "My parents aren't home," he started nervously, and Sam bit back an annoyed sigh. Before whatever it was that happened, Danny would have been jumping at a chance to have her alone, sans parents and Tucker. Now it was almost like he was using them as protection. But from what? She wasn't dangerous.

"Tucker told me you aced Lancer's test," Sam offered into the silence as she trailed Danny up the stairs. "He said that your parents are pleased with how your grades improved so much this week."

Danny shrugged and Sam sighed as she followed him into his room, feeling a stranger and hating the way he nearly jumped out of his skin as she closed the door behind her. "I'm not going to do anything to you, Danny. I just wanted to talk to you. Seems like everyone else knows more about you than I do these days."

She sank down onto his bed, unzipping her jacket and shrugging it off to lay it across her knees where she could twist her fingers against the soft cotton of the lining. "It's not supposed to be like that. I should know everything first, and you're not telling me anything."

She didn't look up as she heard the creak of his desk chair, and refused to meet his eyes when he rolled it over to her, leaning forward and taking her hand in his. "I know, Sam. I know, and I think we need to talk."

Sam's heart dropped out from inside her, and she thought for a second that the ache in her stomach was going to make her throw up, but she didn't do anything more than turn blind eyes up at Danny, barely seeing the worried look in his blue eyes. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" she asked faintly, and blinked back tears as she looked down.

"No, Sam," Danny said hurriedly. "No, no. No, I-I'm, not breaking up with you. I-I… I care about you too much to break up with you." Oh, how he wanted to just say it. It would be so easy. _I love you, Sam._ But he knew that he couldn't do it, shouldn't do it. It would only make it that much harder when it was all over and he had to leave again. But the next time he left… He wasn't coming back.

"Sam. Sam, look at me," he ordered as he titled her face up so she was looking at him. It tore at him to see the tears in her eyes, and he closed his eyes and sighed.

…_to resume your life as if nothing has changed…_

Oh, it was a bad idea. A terrible idea, and he knew he'd pay for it one way or another later, but Danny couldn't help himself in that one moment, and leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips, wanting to make that horrible frightened look leave her eyes. "I'm not breaking up with you, Sam," he whispered against her mouth. "You're stuck with me; I'm not leaving you until I'm dead and gone."

His voice broke and Danny pulled her close into a hug, just holding her close for a long time. He was careful, though, even then to keep her face near his, her ears well above where she would expect to hear a heartbeat. Such little things that made him so miserable.

"You can't ask questions, Sam," he finally said into her hair as he stroked it. Her eyes were closed but he knew that she was wide awake by the way her breathing suddenly increased, the way the pulse at her throat jumped. "You have to stop digging. All of you, you can't be doing it."

"We want to know what happened, Danny," Sam said as she sat up, sliding away from him and off of his lap and back onto the bed. "If you won't tell us, we'll find the answers some other way."

"I can't. I _can't_. It would be bad if I told you." His voice was steady and his eyes never wavered from hers.

She reached a hand out for his and held it quietly, thumb smoothing circles along his palm. "For who, Danny? Who would it be bad for?"

"All of us," was his soft response, and he pulled his hand away from her. "I know I'm not acting like I normally do."

She snorted, lavender eyes darting around his room. "You're telling me. It looks like you got a maid or something. I mean, I can actually see your floor, Danny."

He chuckled weakly. "Not much to do when you're grounded."

"Yeah," she said, but her eyes were on him, and they considered his clothes. "But what about this, Danny?" she asked as she leaned forward to pluck at the clean and wrinkle free clothes. "It looks like you actually learned to iron or something."

Danny plucked at the hem of the button down self consciously. In all honesty, he had no clue what he had against his usual clothes, except for the fact that they just didn't feel right. Besides, he'd changed. So maybe a little change was in order. And he couldn't deal with the holes he'd worn into his old jeans. Which was _why_ he'd worn them in the first place. They were 'broken in' and comfortable. In the summer he'd say that they had built in air conditioning and finger the edges of the large rent at his right knee.

He didn't like wearing those; they just made him think of the lack of scar there more often than he did otherwise.

In the end he only shrugged, he had no excuse to offer and without telling her the bare facts of his true nature, anything he could say about changing would upset her. Or worse. Probably worse, and Danny rubbed his cheek absently as he recalled how hard she'd slapped him when she thought he was someone else. For such a small person she sure packed a hell of a wallop.

"It's like you're you, but not, and all at the same time," she muttered. "Why does it have to be so complicated?"

"It doesn't," he ventured tentatively. "It doesn't have to be, you could just let it rest. Be happy with what you have."

Violet eyes narrowed at him, and Danny winced back. "Are you sure you're Danny? Because you're sounding way too philosophical to be my Danny."

"_Your_ Danny, huh?"

Sam flushed and she scooted back on his bed with an aggravated sigh. "Can't you tell me anything?" she asked, and ground her teeth in frustration when he shook his head. She patted the space next to her. "Come over here with me, Danny."

Oh how she hated the hesitant way he looked at her.

"Nothing has to happen," she finally said. "I just want you to hold me."

That was all it took, and Sam wondered again what exactly had happened to Danny in the three days he'd been gone. He crawled up the bed next to her, and she had to remind herself that it wasn't sensual, it wasn't sexual. It was nothing but comfort, which somehow edged everything else out as he lay down behind her and wrapped strong arms about her. She settled back into them with a sigh, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, finding the warm, clean scent of him reassuring.

More than that the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. She let her mind drift, considering possibilities as Danny held her, thinking and throwing them away. There were just too many to consider, and none fit the symptoms exactly. It was all too complicated, she decided, and unnecessary right then. He was so warm at her back, and the bend of his arm cradled her head perfectly, and she was so tired. So very tired.

Danny listened as Sam's breathing evened out, and closed his eyes as he moved his head forward, and closer to her so that his lips were nearly brushing the soft skin of her nape, where her hair parted leaving it exposed. "Oh, Sam," he whispered, sliding his free arm up around her body, and holding her a little tighter.

He looked down at the sleeping girl. "I came back for you, Sam. I love my family, and Tuck is like a brother. But I came back for you."

And where he couldn't see it, though her breathing never changed, her body never moved, lavender eyes slipped open in the coming darkness.

---

It was, Danny decided, impossible. There was no way to hide the fact that he had wings. Great, white, fluffy wings, that were his only method of flight now. He sighed, feathers shifting and brushing along his back and legs as he stood on top of the Op Center, watching the moon as it moved across the sky. Everyone was asleep. His parents, Jazz. He'd even made sure that Sam and Tucker were asleep.

Tucker he'd actually checked in person, flying over and nearly laughing when he found his best friend wrapped around a pillow. And his PDA. It was almost sad the way Tucker was so ready to shower affection on his PDA. Better than Jazz. But it was a line of thought Danny was trying to avoid thinking about.

Sam had fallen asleep while on the phone with him. An acceptable alternative for both of them, since he knew he hadn't managed to hide how hesitant he was to touch her. She wouldn't know, couldn't know, that it wasn't because he didn't want to. That he didn't want her. The irony that he avoided her _because _he wanted to touch her, hold her.

Because he loved her.

He let his eyes drop and felt his shoulders sag. Even as he thought it, he could feel the changes through his wings, the way the feathers rustled into messy disarray, the way the almost dragged instead of being proud and strong like they normally were, even when he was terrified of discovery. Like he'd been the night he'd had Sam beneath him, and feathers drifted down around them.

God. It was his fault. His secret was so close to being blown; there was really no hope that one of them wouldn't find out. Even with his request, he knew Sam would still dig. And if she didn't, Tucker would, and Jazz with him.

"Perhaps if you tried to make them invisible?"

Danny startled off of the edge of the Op Center and very nearly sent an ectoblast at Aziraphale where he now stood on the decking. "You have a death wish, don't you?" Danny asked as he brushed hair out of his eyes, where his wings had pushed it with gusts of wind from the way he flapped them.

There was a chuckle from behind him and Danny glanced back with a groan before flying back to the deck and settling down. He glared at the figure carelessly hanging in space, black wings working effortlessly to hold Crowley there. "Alright, middle of the night. Don't I get to do stuff on my own?"

Crowley dropped down next to him with another chuckle. "You seem to be having a few problems."

"Oh, no," Danny muttered as he shifted back to human. "Why would I have any problems? I'm great, no problems. Just fucking great."

"Danny." Aziraphale's voice was sharp, and Danny sighed and dragged a hand over his face. "You're too young to curse."

Danny snorted. "Too _young_? I'm an angel, but I'm too young to curse?"

Crowley shrugged when Danny glanced at him. "Don't look at me; I'm from downstairs. We can curse whenever we want."

"Have you tried keeping them invisible while you're in your ghost form?" Aziraphale asked, an exasperated look at Crowley.

Danny shrugged and familiar blue rings formed at his waist to leave Phantom standing there. There was the sound of ripping and the his wings were back out, half visible and still there. "They don't want to do it. If I turn all of me invisible," and he did, the Op Center looking conspicuously empty but for Aziraphale and Crowley. "They go then. But if I just try and do them, they refuse." He sighed as he winked back into sight. "Besides, it'd only last until I lost my concentration, and in a fight…"

"I imagine it happens a lot," Aziraphale said sympathetically. "Perhaps you could just avoid flying in front of your friends?"

"And everyone else in the town…"

Crowley reached a hand out and ran one finger across a feather. "Look here, Prodigal." He plucked a feather and Danny helped, his wing twitching violently away sending gusts of wind at Crowley where he held the feather between two fingers. Suddenly it glowed red, still white, but looking more like it was ghostly and evil.

"Perhaps if you tried running your ectoenergy around your wings, make them appear to be a new power, or something of the sort." Crowley let the feather fall and pulled his sunglasses off, pinning Danny with his yellow slitted gaze. "Would it work? Because your little Anchors are closer than your guide would like."

Danny glanced back Aziraphale concerned, but Aziraphale shrugged it off. He bit back the question and closed his eyes and suddenly the deck was bathed in an eerie green light as ectoenergy danced across Danny's wings, circling and swirling the feathers in an impressively ghostly display.

"Good," Crowley said. "Very good." Then he reached out and decked Danny.

Danny couldn't avoid it, couldn't even step back before the fallen angel's fist had connected, and he stumbled back, his hands coming up lit with power as he readied himself to defend. "What was that for?" he ground out, eyes luminous as his ghost energy danced through them.

Crowley only slid his glasses back on and gave Danny a pleased smile. "Your wings stayed lit the entire time. I believe that this might be a suitable arrangement, don't you?"

A glance back confirmed that his wings hadn't changed from glowing green, and he looked back at Crowley again. "You're a sneaky bastard, aren't you?"

Crowley shrugged and Aziraphale started laughing from where he stood, hands in the pockets of his white linen slacks. "Danny, you have no idea."

Despite knowing that he was missing something, Danny couldn't help but feel a little better about the situation.

---

She was surprised that the teasing she would normally have been forced to endure was sparse and halfhearted when she met Tucker for breakfast the next morning. Jazz was on her way, running late because she was trying to negotiate freedom for Danny that night. Just one night, and a party that Jazz had agreed to attend as a chaperone if only Danny would be rewarded for his excellent behavior and drastically improved grades.

No one mentioned that Tucker and Jazz had walked in on her and Danny, half wrapped around each other in his bed. Innocent, or mostly. She'd been asleep and Tucker had informed her that Danny had been adamantly trying to pry her off of him without waking her. Not, Danny had told her, because he didn't like lying there with her. But because he'd heard them coming and had been trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

She believed him, because he'd held her hand when he walked her home. And he'd kissed her before she'd gone in. not anything more then a gentle one, but he'd done it, not her. And she believed him.

"So how's the research?" Sam asked as she saw Jazz coming in the distance.

Tucker shrugged, not wanting to admit that he hadn't exactly been researching. Even after getting kicked out of the library he could have. But not when Jazz was so willing to do other things. He was saved from having to actually answer by her, and if she didn't understand the grateful smile he gave her, it didn't matter.

"Sorry I'm late, it took a little more effort than I thought," she said as they walked in and found an empty table. Not the Nasty Burger, for once, but a nice little family owned diner that had excellent service. Better than excellent because before Sam had a chance to ask about the extra effort, the waitress had come and taken their orders.

"What do you mean by more effort?" Sam asked as she twirled the straw in her soda, glancing with disgust at the amount of cream and sugar Tucker was putting in his coffee. "And god, Tuck, if you order coffee don't you want to taste it?"

"Not in the least," he said as dumped two more packets of sugar in and stirred.

Jazz sighed and Sam turned amethyst eyes back on her. "Mom and Dad were actually agreeable. Mom's ready to let him off of grounding as long as he keeps curfew and all. And his grades. She thinks that whatever happened to make him run away," and she rolled her eyes in annoyance and not being able to tell her mother the truth, "knocked some sense into him."

"Then what's the problem?" Tucker asked as he took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "There isn't enough sugar to cover up the bottom of the pot taste."

"Danny doesn't want to go," Jazz said quietly, looking everywhere but Sam.

Sam didn't say anything, and Tucker patted her shoulder. "That isn't exactly normal. Danny was dying to go to this party last week." It wasn't A-List, but a costume party was bound to be fun, and Danny had been bouncing around trying to figure out what to be. He'd been trying to convince Sam and Tucker to do a Wizard of Oz theme; he wanted to be the cowardly lion and make Tucker the scarecrow.

But Sam had flat out refused to be Dorothy, so Danny hadn't asked again.

Sam cleared her throat and two sets of green eyes turned to her. "Have you guys noticed how oddly Danny's been acting?" she asked, remembering her line of thought from the night before, when she'd been lying in Danny's arms and more than half asleep. Before the confession he thought she'd been asleep for and after she'd had to reassure him that she wasn't trying to seduce him.

"Um, yeah. That's why we're here," Tucker said evenly, eyes curious behind his glasses.

"No," Sam said softly. "Not that stuff. Look, when's the last time he hugged you, Jazz? When's the last time he hugged your parents, or even you, Tuck? He isn't touching any of us."

"He touches you, Sam," Jazz said pointedly, but her mind was turning as she realized that Danny had actually been avoiding contact since he'd been back. Not normal for him, he was actually very affectionate for a sixteen year old boy.

"But he doesn't," Sam said lowly. "_I_ touch _him_," she whispered, face flushing red as she said it. "That day, he was terrified when he ran off. I saw it, Jazz; he was terrified of what we'd been doing."

Tucker glanced away as he said, "Maybe he's not ready, Sam." He couldn't meet her eyes.

Sam shook her head. "If I'd said yes before, he would have. I've stopped us from going too far enough times. Jazz," and she turned pleading eyes on the older girl. "Do you think that whoever had him… did something to him? It's like he's afraid to touch me, to be around me."

Jazz bit her lip and then glanced up as she saw the waitress coming with their food. Silence reigned as it was distributed and they started eating, but it didn't last very long before Jazz sighed and pushed her plate back, elbows on the table in front of her and hands rubbing her temples.

"I don't think so, Sam," she said slowly. She could feel the other girl's hopes rising fast, and it hurt her to have to crush them with her next thought. "I can't say what happened while he was gone, but whatever did happen, he's afraid of it. And he's afraid of himself."

She picked her fork back up and poked at her eggs before taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. "I think that he'd not afraid of you, Sam. Us," and she pointed between her and Tucker with the fork before twirling it to encompass everyone in Danny's life other than Sam. "I think he's avoiding us, and that it doesn't have to do with what's going on between you two."

"That's something," Sam muttered softly, her shoulders slumping.

"Sam," Jazz said gently. "I really don't think he'd afraid of you. I think he's afraid of himself, and what he might do."

It pained her to say it, but it's what she was beginning to think. And the only way she'd find out for sure was by being around Danny. Surely she could find something for the two of them to do together. Maybe figuring out costumes for the party, since she had to go and had nothing, and Danny hadn't been trying to go anymore.

"Look," Jazz said as she dug in her purse for her wallet. "I'm going to go and bug him, watch him. I'll tell you two anything new I find, okay?"

Tucker nodded, and Sam reached a hand out to stop Jazz's rummaging. "Don't worry about it. I've got it. You just make sure that he's okay."

Jazz nodded and Sam watched her leave, sighing as she pushed her own plate away. "I'm done, Tuck. Are you ready?"

Tucker shot a glance at her. "I was going to eat Jazz's food," he said sheepishly and Sam laughed.

"We'll get a to-go box, okay? I just really want to home."

At the tone of her voice Tucker didn't protest and as he scooped the extra food into it he glanced over at Sam. He didn't know why, maybe because he'd been friends long enough with her to know she was upset and that something was wrong. But somehow it just wasn't right to see her crying, quietly and desperately as she sat against the corner of the booth.

He abandoned the food. A first for him and focused his attention on Sam, knowing somehow that it was a deeper problem than what they'd discussed with Jazz. "Sam, what's wrong?" he asked quietly as he pulled her into a hug.

"I don't think he was in the ghost zone, Tuck," she got out between breaths. "He said something last night, he thought I was asleep, and I don't think he was there like he said."

Tucker frowned as he smoothed her hair. "What do you mean?" he asked.

She pulled away and wiped at her eyes. "He said he came back for me. Like he wasn't going to come back in the first place."

The frown came back, and Tucker sighed. "Maybe it wasn't like that, Sam," he offered, knowing that he had no clue what he was saying, but desperate to get the broken look out of her eyes. "Maybe he wanted to come back, and didn't know if he could."

Sam shook her head.

"Sam," Tucker said gently. "Does it matter? He came back."

She didn't answer.

---

Sam was very quiet as Tucker walked her home, his to-go container of Jazz's food tucked safely beneath his arm. He was worried about her. She wasn't dealing with Danny's return the way he'd thought she would. She was happy, but not very. Instead of at least being relieved that Danny had returned, she was trying to figure out where he'd been, what had happened. Not that Tucker wasn't trying to figure it out himself, but he'd at least though Sam would stop brooding.

But he couldn't blame her. If Danny had come home and acted at least a little like himself… Except he wasn't, and they all knew it. Even his parents had noticed something wasn't quite right. And if the Fenton's were noticing something was wrong, then something _really_ was wrong. And he hated it.

He hated knowing that something had happened, and Danny wouldn't tell them. He never kept secrets from them. Except for how he felt about Sam, but he'd fessed up to that one eventually. Took him a couple of years, but Tucker finally managed to win that bet: they hooked up before high school ended. Hell, they hooked up almost at the beginning of junior year, so he won that one fair and square.

And it was hurting Sam. For that he half wanted to beat the hell out of Danny. He wasn't going to; he knew that Danny could probably wipe the floor with him without breaking a sweat. Hell, by now, Danny could probably take a couple of the jocks without breaking a sweat. And Tucker valued his good looks. More than that, he valued how Jazz enjoyed them. So he wasn't about to do something foolish.

But he could and did try to pick up the slack where Danny was failing with Sam. Where he wouldn't, _couldn't_, according to him. Tucker half wanted to believe it. The other half was afraid to believe it, was afraid that Danny was in something so deep that his head was six feet under.

His thoughts were brutally interrupted by a shriek from Sam as she jumped back into him, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. "What the hell?" he exclaimed as he scrambled around looking for his glasses and making the mental note that contacts might be a good investment.

There was another cry, and this one Tucker could recognize it as Danny's even as he slipped his glasses on and the world came into clear view again. It happened just in time for a cloud of concrete dust to blind him again, and he coughed as it cleared, his hands finding Sam and holding her tightly by the wrist, afraid that she'd put herself in harms way.

It was the first fight they'd seen him in since he'd returned, even though they knew he'd been out as Phantom.

But his fingers became nerveless and lost their grip on her as the cloud settled and Danny Phantom crouched against the ground for a moment, green eyes shining up at Skulker before he launched himself back into the sky… with a massive down sweep of his wings.

"Oh my god," he heard Sam whisper as their eyes followed Danny up to where he glided in front of Skulker and flicked an ectoblast at him before dodging a missile with an agile arch of his back, wings pulled in tight before he swerved around to fly straight into the metallic ghost, barreling him back with a shoulder to his stomach and then darting back with sure wing strokes.

Skulker shook his battle helmet and then sent another volley of missiles at Danny, who dodged them again, this time seemingly more easily than the first. "Is that all you have?" Danny called, tauntingly.

Skulker laughed loudly. "Hardly, Whelp." He sized the half ghost up. "I'd heard you'd gone and gotten yourself killed."

Danny glanced down, knowing that when Skulker had plowed him into the ground his friends had been bare feet away. He turned back to Skulker and narrowed his eyes. "You heard wrong. I'm still here, aren't I?"

"We'll see about that once your pelt hangs from my wall," Skulker threatened as he arrowed himself toward Danny. Danny dodged, bringing a glowing fist down against the back of the battle suit and making sparks skitter across the metal before following it with another that sent piece flying from one of the shoulders.

Without a word Danny sank his hands into the battle suits back, just beneath the shoulder blades, and folded his wings in tightly to his body so that he was driving the mechanical ghost down into the ground, much as he had done to Danny not very long before. Dirt flew when they hit, to the side of the sidewalk but still close enough that Danny could still hear the anxious way Sam was arguing with Tucker to let her go and make sure he was alright. Danny winced as he realized that feathers had flown also, but it wasn't his main concern as he drove his fist into the back of the battle suits helmet, over and over again until it was caved in.

There was an angry yell from inside it and Danny heard a dull thump from beneath the suit and Danny picked it up and threw it to the side, grinning maniacally when he found a small green ghost struggling to get away. With a harsh laugh Danny brought his foot down on top of Skulker, trapping him so that Danny could pick him up and drop him in the beam of light from the thermos he'd unhooked from his belt.

That was done. That was over. But the problems were really just beginning. He inhaled deeply, wishing that it was real instead of an illusion of his semi life, and turned to face them.

They were standing there, Sam closer than Tucker, and both of them were wide eyed and, he winced, nearly afraid. Probably to ask, because Danny could feel the wings swishing behind him, the tickle of feathers through his hazmat, the faint flutter of ripped material where they had escaped from his wingmarks. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Jazz said she was meeting you guys for breakfast," he attempted, wondering what they were thinking. What Sam was thinking.

"Danny," Sam whispered, eyes glued to his face, to his forehead.

"What?" he asked, and ran a hand over it, wondering what had her so startled.

She winced as he fingers caught on it, and he winced at the pain. There was no blood; he hadn't bled since he'd died, no matter what the injury. It didn't mean that it didn't hurt, but there was no blood. And there would be no evidence, either. He knew it, and he could see her realizing it, and Tucker, too, as beneath his fingers the skin began to knit before their eyes.

"I, uh, can explain," he started.

Sam shook her head, and tucker knelt down to pick up one of the feathers that had escaped, still glowing a faint green with ectoenergy. "So, about the feathers."

He tried to smile, but it was faint and worried and afraid. "I'm guessing that this explains them?"

---

"Quit complaining, Crowley," Aziraphale muttered as he adjusted the vest he'd been forced to wear. It was Danny's idea, the whole costume theme. Only instead of it being just him, his friends and sister, he'd somehow managed to twist Aziraphale's wings into joining him.

Some desperate little plea that Crowley just knew was payback, that had him in a vest, and a fez, with his wings out for all to see. And a tail. A bloody monkey tail hanging off of his backside, just so he could be a bleeding flying monkey to Sam's Wicked Witch of the West. And Danny as pleased as punch as that he'd managed to pull one over on them.

At least Aziraphale and Danny were dressed as flying monkeys too. They were meeting the rest of the crew around the corner from Danny's house. His request because he'd managed to pull one that no one had seen coming: an actual ghost and ghost dog as Dorothy and Toto, since Sam refused.

For his part Danny was rather pleased with what he'd been able to pull off at the last minute, and perhaps even a little relieved that his sister had cajoled his parents into allowing him out for some fun. And then convincing him that sitting around the house al the time wasn't very good. That it was depressing him, and only getting out for ghost fights was even worse than not getting out at all. But he was nervous to see how Sam and Tucker were going to react to the surprise.

He'd gotten them to agree with the costumes, Sam as the Wicked Witch and Tucker as the scarecrow. He'd been surprised that they both already had costumes of a suitable nature lying around. Tucker had told him because he'd bought the scarecrow costume despite Sam's refusal. And Sam had confessed that she'd been planning on a being a witch anyway (arguing vehemently that she was one regularly and it wasn't that much of a stretch—it had cost Tucker several bruises along his shins and a knot on his head) so it wasn't difficult to be the Wicked Witch of the West.

Ember and Cujo had been inspired, though. He'd run into her that afternoon hours after Skulker and was ready to toss her back in the ghost zone when she'd said she only wanted to hit up a few parties. Not to take over the world, just to crash and hang. Even if she was dead, she was a teenage ghost, and Danny had a little more sympathy now that he found himself fully dead.

So he'd made a deal. Come with him as Dorothy and she could hang with the partygoers. She'd suggested Cujo, telling him she'd adopted the little dog after finding him running around outside her lair.

It was perfect. Beyond perfect, and Danny sighed as he turned the corner to find his friends. He was happy. He was really happy, and excited to have a good time. For the first time since he'd been back, he was finally managing to forget he was an angel and slip back into Danny Fenton. And he was happy.

"Hey!" he called to Sam and Tucker, laughing as they spun around, ready to fight on sight of Ember. "Cool it, she's with us tonight." He turned to Aziraphale and Crowley and pointed at each in turn. "This is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley. They're, um, helping me out with the new ghost powers."

"What new—" Danny silenced Ember with a single white hot glare, and no one missed the amused glance that Tucker and Sam traded.

"Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum," Sam said with a smirk, and Tucker laughed next to her.

"'Scuse me?" Crowley drawled as he condescended to twitch one of his wings. "Which one of us, exactly, is which?"

"We never really decided," Tucker said as he tried not to smirk.

"Alright then," Aziraphale said. "I'll be Tweedle Dee."

"Why you?" Crowley asked, seemingly focused on the debate as he fell into step with the rest of the party as they walked towards the high school. "You're much better as a Tweedle Dum, I assure you."

"Oh no, Crowley. You fit that role so much better."

Three feet ahead, Sam shook her head and let Danny reach a hand out to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Danny? Are they always like this?"

With a glance back Danny chuckled. "Oh, no, Sam. You should see them when Aziraphale wears something Crowley doesn't approve of." She shot him a look as if to ask if he was kidding. "Seriously. They go at it like Armageddon."

He wasn't unaware of the surprised glances both of the angels shot at him, but he laughed outright when Aziraphale shot at his back, "I'm right here, you know. Need you talk about me behind my back?"

Danny only chuckled as Casper High came into view. "Aziraphale, I'm not talking about you behind your back. I'm talking about you behind _my_ back."


	10. Chapter 9

Ravens Claws

9

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

Crowley adjusted his fez and his vest as he walked beside Aziraphale who was following Danny and his friends. He grumbled to himself and Aziraphale looked at him a moment his expression filled with amusement.

"What are you cursing about?"

Crowley shot a yellow eyed glare at Aziraphale. "Flying monkeys," he said. "Only humans could imagine this! Hell couldn't come up with something this demented. Flying monkeys! Why did I let you talk me into this, angel?"

Aziraphale gestured to Danny with his head and Crowley sighed. "You really do owe me for this one."

"I shudder at being indebted to you, Crowley, now why don't you put on a pleasant expression and let's enjoy Danny enjoying his party."

Crowley smiled slightly. "Sorry. I'm not that giving. I'd better be getting something out of this other than the crappy happiness of your charge."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley worriedly. "You're in a bad mood?" he asked in bewilderment.

"I'm feeling restless," Crowley answered. "This waiting is making me nervous." He looked at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye, with an almost sneakily sly expression which the angel missed. "When is something going to happen? What is Danny's purpose here?"

"I agree this waiting is bothersome," Aziraphale replied thoughtfully then frowned, his heart was now troubled. "It would be nice if we knew when the storm was going to hit."

"Your agreement doesn't answer my question," Crowley grumbled.

"True," Aziraphale answered.

Crowley waited a moment then asked. "Does that mean you know nothing or does it mean you're not telling me." Aziraphale smiled and said nothing more and Crowley was sure the angel knew something, and he needed to know what that something was.

---

Ember stayed with Danny and the rest of the group long enough to make an impact on the room with their collective presence, before hitting the dance floor with reckless abandon.

"Danny," she cooed as she smiled wickedly before she left. "You're a real angel you know that, Baby Pop?" Danny narrowed his eyes at her and she laughed as she faded into the crowd.

"What was that about?" Sam asked as she watched Ember take her place on the dance floor with Cujo beside her, fending off any admirers who dared to venture too close to his mistress.

Danny shook his head. "She's happy to be out." he answered softly. "Who knows?" Sam frowned, then smiled as Jazz appeared out of the crowd. She was dressed as an angel and Danny suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He wondered briefly if Jazz had figured out his secret and was trying to taunt him with it. He stared at his sister like a deer in headlights until it hit him, that Jazz was about as subtle as a chainsaw, and if she knew anything she'd either confront him with it, or hang back and wait patiently for him to come to her, though he really doubted she would wait patiently if she knew he was dead.

"Don't worry," Aziraphale told Danny as he walked up beside him, watching as Tucker and Sam moved toward Jazz. "She doesn't know a thing."

Crowley snickered as he appeared on the other side of Danny. "I've always had an appreciation for irony," he said. "But, this is boring. Excuse me." He took off into the crowd with a gleam in his eye that sent Aziraphale's radar off.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called anxiously. "What are you planning?" The angel excused himself from Danny as he followed Crowley into the crowd.

Danny took a deep breath and watched both angels until they were out of sight, then moved to take Sam's hand in his, she turned and smiled at him as she moved her hand from his grasp sliding it up his arm, and moving so he was holding her at the waist.

"Dance?" she asked softly as a slow melody began playing. Danny swallowed the lump which had suddenly formed in his throat as her soft purple gaze held his, he could see the hope flickering in her eyes, he could tell she was expecting him to turn her down, to continue with the distance he'd been trying to put between them. He knew holding her close as they danced to the soft romantic music would be a mistake, that he would just want to keep holding her, but he couldn't bear to hurt her.

"Yeah," he answered and the joy in her eyes was pleasure enough, it had to be, he told himself.

"You don't mind if I take Tuck with me, do you?" Jazz called as Sam began leading Danny to the dance floor. He paused for a moment then looked at Sam thoughtfully, she bit her lip and looked at Tucker, who looked back and shrugged.

"Yes I mind," Danny began as he turned toward his sister, but Jazz ignored him and pulled Tucker away with her, wearing an extremely determined look on her face. Danny sighed then looked at Sam who was smiling as she watched them walk away.

"They make a cute couple," she remarked as they resumed their walk to the dance floor. Danny frowned as he looked in the direction his sister and Tucker. Sam put her arms around his neck and he instinctively pulled her close, putting his hands on her waist and then her back as she pressed herself against him.

"Couple?" Danny asked in annoyance as he tried to ignore how good it felt to hold Sam. More than anything he wanted let go and love her and forget that he wasn't supposed to feel this overwhelming desire for her, he was almost dizzy with it. "How can they be a couple? She's two years older than he is! He's my best friend. She's my sister."

"They're both human," Sam replied as she caressed his cheek smiling when he looked toward his sister and Tucker worriedly. He returned his gaze on her and she sighed, wishing she knew how to reach him, to figure out what had changed. "Anyway, I don't think you have too much to worry about."

"Why?" Danny asked as he pulled her impossibly closer, buried his face in her hair, and took a deep breath. If there was anything he was going to miss about life, it was the smell of Sam. Tears began to prickle against his eyelids and he shut them tight, willing his eyes to reabsorb the moisture.

"Because they're not serious about each other," Sam replied. "Or at least Jazz isn't serious about, Tucker. I think he might be in..lo..um, like her a little more than she likes him."

Danny shook his head in disbelief. There was no way his sister would play with someone's heart, let alone Tucker's. She wasn't that kind of person. Was she? Jazz was sensible, smart and had her whole life planned out.

She'd changed her plans once before so she wasn't completely ridged in her plans. Instead of going out of state to college, she decided to attend Amity Park University for two years. But as far as life and love went, Danny just couldn't see her toying with someone's emotions or even really getting involved; romantic relationships seemed to revolve in a different direction than Jazz and her goals.

He'd been relieved when Jazz told him that she was going to stay and see him through graduation, and then she was going to transfer away from, as she termed it, all the ghost craziness. Now he wished she stuck to her original plan and gone away, it would have made keeping his secret a little easier, and saying good bye too, once whatever he had been sent back for was over and he was called back to heaven.

Danny looked around until he caught sight of Jazz standing near the punch bowl, eyeing each person who came near with a glare that warned them not to tamper with the punch. He smiled. That was his sister; ridged, moralistic, stuck in the mud. He sighed and smiled. He didn't need to worry about her getting involved with Tucker, who was standing beside her doing what Tucker did best, talking, incessantly. They were too different.

"Danny," Sam whispered as she pulled his attention back to her. She'd moved so she could look into his eyes and he focused his gaze on her.

"What did you say?" Danny asked absently and Sam sighed in consternation. She was silent as she returned her head to his shoulder and they swayed to the music until it changed to something more fast-paced.

Danny looked at Sam uncertainly for a moment. He didn't think he could handle her moving against him as the dance floor filled and they were forced against each other just as tightly as they had been for the slow dance. Each brush of an errant dancer against his wings, made him ache to retract them. He was uncomfortable. He needed to get off the dance floor.

Sam caught the almost frightened look on Danny's face and her heart constricted painfully in her chest. She started to say something, but Danny interrupted.

"I'm thirsty," he told her as he pulled her from the dance floor and headed toward Jazz, Tucker and the punch bowl. He was holding on to her hand for what seemed like dear life, which she found a little comforting, but still her heart was heavy and she wished they'd never attended the party.

Since Danny was guiding her through the crowd, Sam took the opportunity to look around. She spotted Ember as the wave of people surrounding the ghost parted briefly, and frowned. Then her eyes lit on Crowley who was standing against the wall as he watched people dance, his expression was hard to read as his yellow eyes glittered from the reflected lights twinkling from the ceiling.

Danny wasn't going to give her answers, but she was sure Crowley or Aziraphale could. The moment they showed up that evening, a million questions raced into her mind and set up residence on the tip of her tongue. It was hard to keep them back, but she had for Danny's sake. He had seemed so happy as the evening began, but now he was brooding and looked ill at ease and Sam felt broody and ill at ease too. She wanted answers, Danny wasn't giving them to her.

Tucker and Jazz were more interested in flirting with each other than trying to get to the bottom of whatever was going one, so Sam decided she'd have to take matters into her own hands. She was going to talk to Crowley. He seemed the more down to Earth of the pair, hopefully…she'd be able to wheedle some sort of answer from him.

"I'll be right back," Sam said as she extracted her hand from Danny's. He looked at her in surprise and she smiled at him tenderly.

"I can handle myself in a crowd," she told him, trying to keep her tone amused and light. She rose up on tip toe, kissed the corner of his mouth then moved away from him, telling him they'd meet at the punch bowl.

Danny watched her head in the direction of the bathroom then sighed and forced himself to relax. He waited until she faded into the crowd then turned and walked over to Jazz and Tucker. His thoughts sifted away from Sam and toward his friend and his sister, his intent turned to keeping apart, before someone got hurt.

"Having fun?" Jazz asked cheerfully as Danny took his place between his sister and Tucker.

"Sure," Danny said as he speared Tucker with a warning glance, which obviously went right over Tucker's head as he looked up and smiled at Jazz as he looked past Danny.

"Where's Sam?" Tucker asked as he turned his attention to Danny and smiled, ignoring the green edging around the blue of Danny's eyes.

"Bathroom," Danny answered as he watched Jazz take a long drink of punch. He frowned at her a moment and then was at a lost about what to say. He decided asking them about the nature of their relationship while they were together would be a bad idea. They would both deny anything was going on, and then Jazz would tell him to mind his own business.

"Tuck," Danny said as he turned to his friend as he was refilling his cup with punch. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," Tucker said. "What's up?" Danny gestured to Jazz with his eyes and Tucker began to look uncomfortable.

"I need Tucker to stay here," Jazz told Danny when she realized he was trying to appropriate Tucker.

"I need to talk to him about something in private," Danny told her.

"Talk to him later," Jazz said coolly. "I'm here as a chaperone and I'm bored for intelligent conversation. You owe me."

Danny gave his sister a look of disbelief. "Intelligent conversation?" he asked trying not to laugh. "With Tucker? You're kidding right." Jazz looked at him blankly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tucker asked. "Are you calling me dumb?"

"No!" Danny said quickly as he turned back to Tucker. "I'm saying that your intelligence is not like Jazz's. I don't want her to bore you."

"Are you saying that I'm boring?" Jazz asked her tone bordering on outrage.

"No," Danny replied. "I'm just saying that your interests are beyond Tucker."

"You _are_ calling me dumb!" Tucker growled. "You know just cause I'm not a Fenton, it doesn't mean I'm dim Danny. I happen to find your sister interesting and stimulating."

"Stimulating?" Danny asked. Tucker gave him a sour look.

"Sexually or intellectually?" Danny continued. Jazz gasped in outrage and Tucker's skin darkened in a flush.

"Danny!" Jazz growled. "Where do you get off asking that kind of question?"

"I just want to make sure," Danny told her then paused as he caught sight of Ember making her way toward them.

"Make sure of what?" Jazz asked in a dangerous tone.

"Nothing," Danny said as he clammed up. Ember stopped as she reached the table and surveyed the trio.

"Danny," She started. "I'm bored. Come dance with me."

Danny looked around for Sam. "I don't think so," he told her. She walked around the table and slid her hand up his arm.

"Please Baby Pop," she begged. "After all I am here as your guest…"

"You should go," Jazz told him curtly. "Otherwise I'm going to kill you."

Danny looked at his sister and smiled slightly. He wanted to tell her that she couldn't kill him since he was already dead, but that wouldn't be a good idea, so he let Ember lead him away. He caught sight of Sam talking to Crowley and his stomach knotted. He was pretty sure he knew what they were discussing, and he wished he could go stop them, but he was trapped.

---

Crowley arched one eyebrow as Sam walked up and stood beside him. She said nothing as she leaned her back on the wall, with her arms crossed, watching the party goers in their costumes walk by.

Sam didn't look at him. She didn't bother to assess his expression or attempt to read his body language. She just stood. Crowley was amused and patient, he assumed that she expected him to talk first, but he could out wait her a million times over, so he simply settled in.

He scanned the room for action. There was a fight taking place on the edge of the crowd near the door. A Hispanic girl was screeching at the top of her lungs because someone ripped a hole in her fairy princess costume, a tall blonde haired boy was threatening a smaller, younger, weaker classmate and there was a small faction of boys hatching a dastardly plot to toilet paper the principal's car, otherwise, there was nothing going on.

Crowley sighed as he came to the conclusion that if he wanted anything to happen, he'd have to make it happen. He looked toward Jazz, Tucker and Danny standing near the punch bowl and smiled. It didn't take much effort on his part to start the ball rolling, but he was sure, that soon the party would get much more interesting.

He looked at Sam and smiled at her as she speared him with a questioning look. Crowley debated on whether to put her out of her misery and speak first or to let her continue to stew.

Sam sighed heavily. "How do you know Danny?" she asked. "Are you a ghost?"

"No," Crowley answered almost before her second question was complete. "I am not a ghost."

"How do you know Danny?" Sam questioned.

Crowley looked at her thoughtfully then gestured toward Aziraphale who had been caught half way across the room by Star, who was obviously flirting with him. Crowley chuckled and Sam frowned.

"I know Danny from Aziraphale. He and I go way back," Crowley answered.

Sam raised her eyebrows. "How does Aziraphale know Danny?"

Crowley shrugged. "I wouldn't think the how is as important as the why."

"Okay," Sam said. "Why does Danny know Aziraphale?"

Crowley adjusted his wings as he watched people drinking punch. He'd kept count on Danny's sister and friend. Jazz was on her third cup, Tucker his second and naturally Danny hadn't touched a drop.

"You should ask Aziraphale," Crowley replied which earned a sigh of exasperation from Sam. Crowley smiled as he returned his gaze to Aziraphale and the girl who was desperately trying to flirt with him. Crowley was trying hard not to laugh at the look of horror on the angel's face.

Sam followed Crowley's gaze, then smiled thoughtfully. "So you two…are you um, you know?"

Crowley returned his attention to Sam and asked her blankly, "Are we what?" The empty look he gave her sent chills down her spine.

"Together?" Sam squeaked as she began to feel intimidated. Maybe trying to grill Crowley for information wasn't such a good idea.

"Together?" Crowley repeated slowly, one corner of his mouth curled up in a crooked smile. His expression filling with something which looked like pure devilment to Sam.

"Yeah," she continued as she rallied her courage. "Together."

Crowley blinked almost sleepily "I believe that is a question which ought to be reserved for Aziraphale as well."

"Where did you come from?" Sam asked.

"England most recently," Crowley answered.

"And before that?"

Crowley shrugged. "Here and there."

"How did you meet Danny?" Sam asked quickly, he was aware she'd asked the question before. "And why are you here? He says you're here to help him. With what? Why? Do you know where he disappeared to for three days?"

Crowley studied Sam for a few moments to assess the intensity of her desire for answer. The air of fear and desperation lingering around her was tinged heavily with the pain of grief. He wondered for a moment, what price she would be willing to pay for the knowledge he held and how it would impact what he came to do.

He was under no obligation or order to keep Danny's secret a secret. He could, out of the goodness of his heart, tip Sam off to Danny's angelic persona, but then again he didn't have much goodness in his heart, despite what Aziraphale said, and if he was going to give up important information, he wanted compensation.

Sadly, he decided as he sized Sam up. There was very little the girl could offer him. He had no use for money and really he didn't want her soul, so there was nothing which she could give to properly compensate him for the trouble of dealing with the wrath of Aziraphale, and God only knew who else. Besides, Aziraphale would stop trusting Crowley with Danny and that wouldn't do.

"These are questions you ought to be posing to Danny," Crowley told her coolly. "Not me. I shouldn't have to endure this interrogation, nor should I be the one to give you answers which are not mine to give."

"He's not giving me answers," Sam growled. "So my choices are limited. I know something happened to him and…."

Crowley held up his hand then frowned as Aziraphale caught sight of Sam. The warning look in the angel's eyes told Crowley everything he needed to know. Messing with Sam was not a good idea.

"Listen, girl," he began. "Danny has been your friend for quite sometime. Either you trust him or you don't. If he says he can't tell you what happened or of the purpose of Aziraphale and myself in his life, then you should leave it at that."

"I can't…" Sam started. "You don't know Danny. He…" Sam paused as Aziraphale stood before her. He smiled at her kindly then looked at Crowley who shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "What? I didn't do anything."

Sam's attention moved from Crowley to Aziraphale and she opened her mouth to ask her questions, but Aziraphale stopped her. "Your attention would be better served if it was diverted elsewhere," he told her then pointed at Ember.

The ghost had taken a break from the dance floor and was making her way toward Danny with a wicked, seductive smile on her face. Sam's fists clenched as the ghost reached Danny then ran her hand up his arm. The open smile Danny gave Ember made Sam's stomach twist into knots. Soon Ember was leading Danny on to the dance floor. Sam excused herself from Crowley and Aziraphale as she pushed through the crowd and followed Danny and Ember.

A cold knot of pain lodged itself in Sam's heart as she watched Ember dance seductively against Danny. He looked relaxed and happy, which was the complete opposite of how he'd been in her presence lately. She sighed shakily and fought back the wave of dizziness and nausea.

"Aww, don't they make a cute couple?" she heard someone murmur and she felt like curling up and dying right there. She took several steps back then turned and left Danny and Ember to their fun.

"Hey Sham," Tucker called happily as she made her way over to stand beside he and Jazz. Sam eyed him warily and Jazz shook her head.

"Want shome punch?" Jazz asked as she offered Sam a cup.

"No thanks," Sam answered weakly then looked at Jazz in surprise as Danny's sister hiccupped.

"Excush me," Jazz giggled.

"Are you drunk?" Sam asked slowly as she picked up a cup of punch and smelled it. It seemed perfectly fine. She took a tiny sip. It tasted normal too.

"No!" Jazz said in exaggerated outrage. "How would I get drunk? I'd have to drink in order to get drunk and all I have drank is this punch. I have been vigilant in my duties and I assure you that no one hash been able to get closh enough to shpike it!"

Sam nodded her head slowly then watched Jazz quickly down another cup full of punch. She smiled then leaned against Tucker and sighed. Tucker put his arm around Jazz and she looked up at him with a half lidded gaze then lifted on her tip toes and kissed him. Sam's eyes went wide as Tucker put his arms around Jazz and pulled her close.

A look of disgust and disbelief formed on Sam's face as she watched Tucker and Jazz swap spit beside the punch bowl. She wasn't sure what to say, or if she should say anything at all. Finally she cleared her throat loudly and the two broke apart and looked at her dazedly.

"I thought you were supposed to be chaperoning this party," Sam scolded softly. It was strange to see Jazz behaving like anything but the perfect sister, student, daughter, friend. Sam considered her to be a bit rigged and stuffy, but she put up with her company for the sake of Danny, who, even though he found her a bit trying at times, adored his sister.

Jazz looked at Sam for a moment then back at Tucker. "Can you watch the punch bowl for me?" she asked not taking her eyes from Tucker.

"I don't think so," Sam started then looked at Tucker who mouthed the word "please." She sighed heavily, she owed Tucker for listening to all her angst over Danny.

"Fine," Sam agreed. "I have nothing better to do."

"Thanks!" Jazz said happily as she took Tucker by the hand and lead him away. Sam muttered under her breath then looked at the punch bowl. She filled a cup then took a large swig. It tasted perfectly normal. She wondered for a moment if either Tucker or Jazz had brought alcohol of their own, but dismissed the thought. There was no way Jazz would have done something like that.

She looked at the punch bowl askance for a moment then took another large swallow from her cup. A pleasing warmth radiated from her stomach and through her limbs, fighting off the chill that had grown the minute she saw Ember pressing herself against Danny. She closed her eyes and shivered at the thought then filled her cup from the punch bowl and took several large gulps.

---

Danny was enjoying dancing with Ember. She was a fun partner and even better he was able to relax and enjoy himself, though his fun didn't come without a certain amount of guilt.

He felt absolutely no attraction toward Ember, and was fairly certain she wasn't attracted to him, so he could enjoy the moment, just relax and have fun, which wasn't something he'd done since returning from the dead.

It was frustrating, he wished he could spend time with Sam, but the moment he got close to her, he wanted to hold her and kiss her and all sorts of hormonal and wrong thoughts raced through his mind. He couldn't relax with Sam, because the moment he did he was afraid he'd give in to his desires.

"Thanks for the dance," Ember told him sweetly as the music changed to something slow soft and romantic. She noticed his attention wavering and she sent him away, more than happy to look for another victim to dance with, and there were any number of willing victims.

Danny nodded then warned her that her time would be up at midnight. She rolled her eyes at him and told him she hadn't forgotten their deal. He left feeling happy and light hearted, but then the heart which felt so light, wasn't really there. His mood began to fall slightly as he moved from the crowd. He caught sight of Crowley and Aziraphale who seemed to be engaged in a heated debate then turned to look for Jazz, Tucker and Sam.

Sam was standing by the punch bowl alone, looking a little tired and slightly bored. He smiled softly and moved toward her. She scowled at him as he reached the table.

"Have fun with Ember?" she asked bitterly. Danny sighed. He understood why Sam was upset.

"Yeah," he answered. "Are you mad at me?"

Sam gave him a narrowed eyed glare. "Why would I be mad?" she asked. "I'm only your girlfriend, or am supposed to be! I don't know what I am any more since you hate being close to me, yet have absolutely no problem letting Ember rub herself all over you."

Danny looked down and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"You should be sorry," she told him bluntly. "And even worse Tweedledee and Tweedledum won't tell me anything and then your sister and Tucker abandoned me to go off somewhere and make out."

"What?" Danny asked sharply as the blue in his eyes gave way to green. Sam looked at him a moment then shook her head.

"And even worse than all of that," Sam continued on a hiccupping sob. "You don't even want me anymore…" She trailed off and Danny moved to take her into his arms his sister and Tucker momentarily forgotten.

"That's not true," he told her gently as he took her by the shoulders. It was then that he caught the scent of alcohol on her breath. He blinked at her in surprise and she pushed away from him. He looked at the punch bowl, then the half empty cup in Sam's hand. He brought it to his lips then moved away as the smell of alcohol overwhelmed him. Whatever was in the punch was potent stuff.

"You know," she said slowly, her words slurring ever so slightly. "I never thought our relationship would come down to this. I thought it was stronger. I thought we were stronger, and I never thought you'd be the one avoiding it, or I would be the one pushing the issue. But that's all there is between us lately, that and your damn secret whatever the hell it is."

Danny shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Sex!" Sam practically yelled and Danny felt a blush stinging his cheeks.

"Sam!" Danny whispered as he looked around in embarrassment. Luckily, no one seemed to be listening.

"It's true," Sam began angrily. "We're stuck! And if this is what we're going to be stuck on, maybe we're better off…not together."

Danny took Sam by the arm. "This isn't the right place for this discussion," he told her gently.

"No place is the right place for this discussion!" Sam told him. "Especially since you keep avoiding me! We were supposed to have fun tonight, but no…"

Danny managed to herd Sam into an empty hallway then frowned as he looked around. He wondered where Jazz and Tuck had disappeared to. He looked at Sam a moment then sighed.

"Let's find Tucker and Jazz first," he told her gently. "Then we'll talk."

"No," Sam said stubbornly. Danny grimaced as she pushed away from him and turned to run down the hall. He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"You're drunk and you're not thinking straight," Danny told her gently.

"I am not drunk!" Sam growled in outrage. "I'm hurt! I'm hurt and angry and…and you're breaking me into pieces, Danny…and I…"

Danny didn't know what do or say, so instead of using words, he used action as he pulled her against him and kissed her forcefully. She relaxed against him almost instantly, melting against him as he plundered her mouth.

Sam gasped as Danny pressed her against the wall and slid one hand up her side to cup one of her breasts through the thin fabric of her witch's robes. Her gasp changed to a moan against his lips and a lazy electric warmth coursed through her.

She slid her hands beneath his shirt and smoothed them up his back until her fingers found the feathery down of his wings. "Danny," she whispered as she broke the kiss. He trailed his lips along her jaw and she waited a moment before continuing. "Can you take off your wings?" Her fingers roved across his body, looking for the straps. Danny grabbed her hands and moved away from her, feeling as though he'd been doused with a bucket of icy water. Sam blinked at him in confusion and he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her quickly so she wouldn't realize anything was wrong or feel he was pushing her away.

"Let's find Jazz and Tuck," he told her gently and slowly. "We can finish this conversation later."

Sam took a deep breath then leaned forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "Do you promise?" she asked.

"I promise," Danny told her, hoping that she'd forget.


	11. Chapter 10

Ravens Claws

10

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

"Well where the hell are they?" Danny asked as he dragged Sam across the length and breadth of the school, searching every hallway for his sister and best friend, and always coming up empty handed. He'd dragged Sam with him, and she was still half drunk—and getting more drunk by the minute. He could tell that without a problem and wondered exactly how much she'd drunk before he'd come across her.

"They're probably in one of the classrooms," Sam said as she followed him blindly, more than content to let him drag her along so long as he didn't let go of her hand. She blinked when she heard him say something low and under his breadth, a stream of words she wasn't used to hearing from her boyfriend under any circumstances.

"Of course they're in one of the classrooms," he finally said on a sigh as he opened one of the doors and took a quick look around to find it empty. He pulled Sam in and set her down in one of the desks with a quick kiss and a worried smile. "I'm going to see if I can't find them, okay? You sit here, I'll be back."

Before Sam could protest Danny was shifting to his ghost form and letting himself slide through the floor before winking himself into invisibility and taking off through the school, this time on wing and skimming through each classroom as he did. He would cover a lot more ground this way, he figured, and probably in a fraction of the time.

And with half the school already done, he was beginning to wonder where they were, or if they were even still away from the party. A quick flyby of the party itself showed him the same thing he'd seen when he'd left with Sam. People dancing, Ember stirring it up with her more than willing partners, Crowley and Aziraphale still in heated discussion to the side of the floor and well away from the refreshments. No Jazz, no Tucker. Not a single sign of an angel or scarecrow costume.

Danny wheeled in midair and headed back through a wall and up to the second floor of Casper High, wondering if they were even still at the school. God only knew where they would have gone if they weren't there. Neither of them would go home, not knowing that Danny would find them there. He was fairly certain he'd made his dislike of the idea of the two dating—or anything else for that matter—perfectly clear.

Science labs were both empty, and so was the teacher's lounge. Well, it was empty of Tucker and Jazz. He refused to think too hard about Coach Tetslaff and her date and what they were doing. it made his brain threaten to implode just having seen it on the fly. Janitor's closet, Ms. Pardo's class, and Senor Gonzalez's rooms were all empty. Lancer's class, both bathrooms and—Wait a second. Danny blinked and stopped midair, then darted back through the boy's bathroom, closed his eyes through the girls, and stopped dead in Lancer's room, still invisible and body and wings shuddering as he landed lightly on the floor and turned himself back to human.

There, on Mr. Lancer's desk, was his sister. His goody two shoes sister who disdained relationships, especially physical ones as she threw herself into her studies, was lying on the desk with her white angel's robe hiked up around her waist, the fake glittered wings crushed beneath her, and… And Tucker cradled between them as she wrapped her legs around him, his hands roaming over body and pulling at the thin material that covered her breasts as he kissed her. They were making enough noise that they couldn't hear Danny and did nothing as he gaped in almost horror for a moment.

Then the anger took over as he realized that Jazz's hands were fumbling at the waist of Tucker's pants, trying to undo the button and zippers and then suddenly she was pushing them down as Tucker groaned and murmured, "Jazz, please," as he tugged at the neck of her costume, pulling it down enough that Danny could see Jazz's white bra, and then see Tucker's mouth, dark against her pale skin.

He took two steps forward and had Tucker by the back of his costume, straw scratching at his hand as he yanked his friend back to leave Jazz dazed and blinking up at Danny with blurry blue-green eyes. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed at Tucker as he tossed the boy back, not even blinking when Tucker slammed into the board at the front wall and rapped his head back into it hard enough to make him see stars.

"Danny?" Tucker asked fuzzily as he slid down the wall to the floor, with Jazz echoing the question not two seconds later.

And that was when Danny was hit by the overwhelming scent of alcohol riding the air, thick enough that he wanted to gag and more than a little relieved that he didn't have anything in his stomach to throw up if he did gag. He took several stumbling steps back with his hand to his mouth, then realized that it was coming not just from Tucker, but from Jazz, too, and that however they'd drunk it, they'd drunk enough that they weren't responsible for what they were doing.

Danny swallowed and moved to his sister, trying desperately not to choke on the overwhelming liquor scent as he tried to adjust her clothes back decently and then he turned to hoist Tucker up. Tucker, who was only half awake with his eyes half lidded behind his glasses, straw poking out as Danny deftly pressed him against the wall and held him there with a hip while he tugged Tucker's pants straight and redid the button and zipper, trying not to think about what would have happened if he hadn't found the both of them when he did.

Rape, and not just of his sister. Tucker and Jazz would never drink like this, or possibly even at all, especially when one was his chaperone and the other didn't care for alcohol in the first place. Seemed to Danny like someone had to have spiked the punch, and with Jazz guarding it the only way it could have happened…

"Crowley," he growled softly as he scooped two limp forms beneath his arms and dropped through the floor, wings working through the air before he'd even changed back to Phantom and carrying him easily to the empty classroom where Sam was. She wasn't drowsing against the desk when he arrived and set Jazz and Tucker down. She was at the board with a handful of colored markers, drawing furiously, and she turned, startled and still more than a little drunk when she heard him scrape a chair against the floor as he set Tucker up in it.

"You're back," she murmured, her words slurring worse than before.

He gave her a faint smile and let himself be pulled into a hug. "I've got to go do something, you'll have to wait here a little bit longer, okay?" She nodded and he pressed a kiss to her cheek before shooting through the walls and heading back for the gym, dropping into an empty space invisibly and looking around for his two angelic companions. And more to the point, the one of the Fallen persuasion.

He spotted them and wove his way unseen to the corner where they were standing, still talking quietly but heatedly, and ducked behind them with the whisper of feathers as he listened to Aziraphale speak sharply.

"You spiked the bloody punch, didn't you, Crowley? You're making it harder on him, not helping. It's not very nice of you to muck his life up more." The angel's wings were flat against his back, almost ruffled but mostly making him look very upset and distressed, the same way his voice sounded.

Crowley gave him a smile and almost leered, slitted yellow eyes unblinking in the low lights of the dance. "I'm neither good, nor nice, nor any of your pretty little hopes." Aziraphale took a step back as a frown crossed his face, not quite hitting his bright green eyes. "Or did you think I was like you when I unleashed the antichrist on the world?"

Aziraphale took a breath and said, so quietly that Danny nearly didn't hear him, "You helped me stop him."

"No," Crowley said forcefully. "I'm selfish, Angel. I stopped him because it pleased _me_, not because it saved the world." The smile he gave Aziraphale, though the other angel couldn't see it as he looked away, was almost sad. "There's a reason why I'm one of the Fallen." He stopped as he saw Aziraphale's wings dart wide and mantle, feathers stiff and afraid and angry all at the same time.

"How long have you been there, Prodigal?" Crowley asked evenly as Danny shimmered into view, blue eyes glancing around to make sure no one saw him.

The boy didn't even take the time to answer the question, just launched into a low but angry accusation. "They're drunk, all three of them, and you're the only one who could," and he grinned darkly as he anticipated Crowley's interjection, "and _would_. You spiked the punch. What the hell did you spike it with? And why didn't they smell it, because I could smell that stuff clear as day!" The last question he shot at Aziraphale who was pointedly avoiding looking at Crowley.

"You're an angel, Danny," Aziraphale said, wings fluttering along his back as he settled them back, finally looking up with a weary gaze. "Alcohol automatically offends your senses; you can smell it easily and taste it even more easily."

"Sam's an emotional wreck, she was practically in hysterics, and I found Tucker and Jazz about two seconds away from having sex in a classroom," Danny muttered.

Crowley flicked his fingers at the younger angel. "You're dead, why do you care?"

Danny narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to answer when Aziraphale clapped his hand across it and spun him around. The hand was removed quickly, but there was no need to stop him from saying anything as his mouth hung open. There, standing against the wall, eyes glazed and distinctly intoxicated, was Tucker. "Danny?" he asked, the single word slurring as he tried to get it out. "Wha's he mean?"

Danny tossed a terrified look back at Aziraphale and then turned back at the panicked look on the angel's face. He was just in time to catch Tucker as he slumped forward, passed out and reeking of alcohol. "He heard," Danny said numbly as he adjusted Tucker's weight and glanced between the two angels. "He heard what Crowley said."

"Perhaps he won't remember it, Danny," Aziraphale began. "He _is_ three sheets to the wind, you know."

Danny nodded, eyes still wide. "Right. Maybe he won't remember. But what if he does?"

Crowley just shrugged and Aziraphale glanced up making Danny wondering if he was consulting with the almighty himself. Then he shrugged too. "I don't know, Danny. We'll cover that one when we come to it."

---

He went back for Sam when he finished pouring Jazz and Tucker into their beds. Jazz had been relatively simple to tuck in. phase in, drop her down and toss a blanket on her after tugging the fake wings off of her. That had been weird. Danny's mind was plagued by images of being able to tug his own off as easily. He knew he couldn't, but still, there was a piece of him that was raw with envy that Jazz, sweet, innocent, inebriated Jazz, could go right back to being herself with a simple tug of the fake feathery contraption.

Tucker had been a little more difficult, between the pieces of straw everywhere and the two PDA's he carried around as a matter of course. That had been the truly iffy part, because once he had the second one out Tucker tried to snuggle up to it. But he'd worked it away from the sleeping boy and set it with the other one next to his desk, covered him up and left with a sigh.

She was still on the bench he'd left her at, her head cradled in her arms and her legs tucked up making the black cotton of the witch cloak cling to her tautly. Resolutely Danny closed his eyes as he gathered her up and lifted them in the air, tucking her face against his chest to avoid the stirred up leaves and dust getting in her face. He was sure that she was asleep, she was so still during the flight. But the fact that her eyes were wide open and more alert than he expected had him taking a step back from the side of her bed.

"Danny," she murmured. His chest tightened as he remembered the last time he'd heard her say his name like that. _Join us, Danny._ Nearly two years before, and as intensely sensual as it had been even then. She smiled up at him and he was torn. Half of him wanted to crawl up the bed beside her and take the invitation that her eyes were giving him. The other half wanted to beat himself over the head for even contemplating such an impure and carnal thought.

"You promised," she said as she sat up and reached for him. She caught him by the edge of his vest and dragged him down to the bed. Danny found himself with her pressed against him and her eyes steady on his as he swallowed and tried to edge away from her.

"This is what I mean," she said vehemently. "It all comes back down to sex." She pulled away, turning and sitting up only to wobble erratically and almost fell off of the bed until Danny reached out to her and pulled her back against him.

"Sam," he said softly, turning her to face him and trying not to look away when he saw tears in her eyes.

She only shook her head and pulled away from him. Danny's heart clenched as he watched her make her way across her room, much steadier than he thought she would be able to. Within moments she had gathered up a neatly folded pile of clothes from her desk and disappeared into her bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. He tried not to hear it as she threw the lock, something she'd never done before, even before they were dating.

It wouldn't stop him from getting in, there wasn't very much that could stop him anymore. But the fact that she did it made him want to curl up and die. He laughed bitterly at the thought as he scrubbed a hand over his face and stood. His reflection caught him in the same moment the heavy beat of the shower drifted out, and Danny spared a glance at the bathroom door before moving to stand in front of the mirror. He was as close to hating himself as anything else.

The realization made the feathers along his wings begin to flare up, bristling and staying puffed to reflect his agitation. With a disgusted sigh he shrugged the stupid red vest of the costume off, tossing it at the foot of Sam's bed before turning back. The reflection was… Normal. Average. Just some guy who could be walking down the street at any given moment. White shirt, blue jeans. And wings. Giant fucking wings.

He knew he wasn't kidding anyone, much less himself. He was miserable. And it wasn't even that he was dead, that he was an angel. Not that it wasn't a factor, but the lying… He hated lying. Even before, he'd hated lying to protect his secret. But it was safer than the alternative, and Danny was fully aware that his Phantom bravado only extended to saving the world. It died a miserable little death anytime he thought of his family learning the secret of his late nights, his low grades, his many detentions for being tardy or skipping.

It was the lying that was doing him in. he was good at it; how could he not be with all of the practice that he'd had? But lying to Jazz, to Tucker. Lying to Sam. And they all knew that he was lying. Danny turned away from the mirror, disgusted with himself. He was hurting them. ripping their friendships to shreds piece by piece and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Absently he reached behind him and smoothed a few of the feathers down smooth, sighing as he forced the rest of his wings to relax into an even layer of feathers.

The water cut off and Danny's eyes flew to the bathroom door. He should leave. He knew he should leave, staying was only going to make the rift that was between them grow even wider, deeper. But he'd promised. No matter that he hoped she'd forget it, forget the whole thing and chalk it up to some fever dream. He had enough to worry about with the things Tucker might remember without being afraid that Sam would leave him.

Danny dropped down onto the end of her bed trying not laugh miserably. At least he could still laugh. At least he could still be here with her. Even if it wasn't the way he wanted it to be. There was a click and his attention swiveled to the bathroom door as it opened and Sam stepped out. He figured it was a good thing that he was sitting, because if he hadn't been he might very well have fallen over. She looked beautiful no matter what, but Danny preferred her as she was. No makeup, no hairstyles. No carefully gothic ensemble that screamed individuality.

She was fresh scrubbed, the scent of lavender and vanilla drifting from the steamy dark bathroom behind her. Her hair was damp and tucked behind her ears, face clean of any makeup and lips tinged with a rosy color that was forever hidden beneath the purple lipstick she wore. A black tank top hugged her slim figure, emphasizing the swell of breast and the curve at her hips. Pajama pants that were blue with darker purple splotches on them, and delicate bare feet.

She tossed him a hesitant smile and for a moment Danny felt like he couldn't breathe. Then he remembered that he didn't breathe anymore, but the pain that accompanied that thought was pushed aside by the welling desire as he looked at her. His hands itched to touch her, the way her breast sloped beneath his hand earlier that night, his ears burned to hear her moaning for him again, to feel the way she surrendered as he had pressed her against the wall.

He watched her hungrily as she hung her towel across her desk chair, chuckling at the dark blue letters across the seat of the pants. _Want to feel my mussels?_ it asked, making him realize that the purple splotches weren't splotches at all, but cartoonish crustaceans printed onto the fabric. And when she straightened she turned to him, eyes dark and not as steady as they should have been.

"You promised, Danny," she said softly as she made her way over to him, stopping and standing in front of him. "If you can't tell me what happened, then tell me why you can't stand me. Is there someone else?"

Danny swallowed, hating the way she looked away from him as she asked it. "There's no one else, Sam. Not for me."

"Then why?" Her voice was dangerously close to breaking like it had earlier at the party. He felt sick with it and reached out for her, pulling her forward until she was standing between his legs and he could rest his forehead against the smooth expanse of her stomach.

"I know I'm hurting you, Sam," he whispered. "I don't want to. I care about you so much, I never want to hurt you."

He felt her hands graze his shoulders and she breathed in, her breath hitching. "But you _are_ hurting me, Danny."

"I know, and I'm sorry," he said miserably. "But why do you have to push this so much? Why does this," and he pulled back, smoothing his hand down her hip so that she trembled," matter so much now?"

"Because." Her voice was so soft that he almost couldn't hear it, and he looked up at her, hating himself at the wet trails down her cheeks. "Because, when you touch me it's the only time I know for sure that you still want me."

His hand stilled at her side for a long, terrible moment that had fear flashing across her face before both of his hands were at her face, cupping her cheeks and rubbing at the tears before pulling her mouth down to his so that he could kiss her hotly, tongue sliding past her lips. She responded immediately, hands coming up to run through his hair, fingers tangling in the most pleasant way, tugging gently. Then not so gently as his hands smoothed back down her sides, fingers dancing along the curves of her breasts before skimming the curves of her hips to hook beneath her thighs and pull her onto him so that she was straddling his legs, pressing against him with delicious friction as her body moved against him, as if she was trying to get even closer than she already was.

He could taste the alcohol on her mouth, but not as strongly as before. Sort of bitter and spicy, but underneath it something softer, sweeter, a flavor that was pure Sam. He thought he could practically taste the vanilla and lavender of her body wash as he pressed his mouth to the soft white skin of her throat, nibbling gently, teeth grazing and tongue laving it as he moved lower to press a line of kisses along her collar bone. Sam whimpered and her head fell back, dark hair sliding across the backs of his hands where they held her body closer to him.

"I want you, Sam," he said against her skin, loving the way goose bumps rose beneath his heated breath. "Always want you," and his hands worked beneath the hem of her black tank top, pushing it up as his fingers glided lazily over her stomach, her sides, smoothing beneath the curves of her breasts as he realized that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Smooth rounded flesh when he pushed the shirt up a little higher, and the way she moaned and arched her back, pushing her breast into his mouth when he kissed it made his fingers clench along her back. He fancied he could still taste the vanilla, but something else as well. Not sweet like her mouth, not silky like her throat. But something else that made him pull her closer into him as Danny pressed his lips to the swell over her heart, feeling the rhythm jump beneath his lips before he moved to her other breast, kissing and suckling the smooth skin.

"Oh, Danny," Sam whispered, ending it on a sigh that was more than half moaned as she brought her back up, her fingers dancing down the back of his head and the dark silky hair before skimming his neck and dancing across the tensed muscles of his shoulders. She reached a hand back, delicately tracing a wing as he took her nipple between his teeth, gently rolling it and making her gasp in pleasure.

"Can you take them off?" she asked as he looked up at her, blue eyes unbearably dark.

He shook his head. "I can't take them off." The ice that her words had sent through him nearly made him shiver, but the chills disappeared as she lowered her lips to his and kissed him again, hands moving from shoulders to chest before she was tugging and untucking his shirt from his jeans.

"That's fine," she said into his mouth, and Danny groaned low as her fingers dipped along the waistline of his jeans, skimming sensitive skin that was dangerously close to the point of no return.

Not, he realized as he cupped her breasts in his hands, that he hadn't already hit that point. "Wait," he murmured, and lifted her up, laying her out on her bed before crawling up next to her, dipping his head to press kisses along her legs, her belly, her breasts before reclaiming her mouth. He shivered at the warm fingers sliding up his sides, pushing his own shirt up and winced when it caught on his wings, pulling at the feathers that ran flush with his skin before he quickly phased the shirt free as he pulled back from her. There was a moment where he thought she was going to complain, say no, and then she was sitting up, pressing her lips to his chest, trailing them down until he gasped as her teeth grazed one of his own nipples.

"God, Sam," he muttered as her mouth slid hotly across his skin, desire coiling itself deep inside his belly. She trailed her way up his chest to his throat, teeth biting teasingly where he should have had a pulse before finding their way across his jaw to his mouth, feeding at it hungrily as she pulled him down to the bed with her.

"Please," she murmured into his mouth, and Danny let his hands roam across her pale skin to cup her breasts, pushing the tank top a little further so that it was bunched above them. He let go of her mouth and trailed back down her neck, not even caring that her pale skin was pink with his attentions, delighting in it even, the same way he appreciated the way her lips were swollen from his kisses.

He nibbled at the skin above her collarbone and smiled up at her when she moaned his name as his teeth let tiny indents before moving lower. He was more gentle with her breasts, didn't dare mark them, they were perfect the way they were. Smooth and pale and soft in his hands, in his mouth. Her fingers were clutching at his shoulders by the time he let his mouth find its way to her rib cage, and when his tongue dipped into her belly button her fingers were clenched in his hair painfully as she gasped beneath him.

She wasn't even capable of gasping when Danny's fingers nimbly untied the drawstring of her pajamas and slipped them down her legs, biting back the sudden desire to taste her as she lifted her hips so that he could take the pants off of her. Not black, he'd expected black, or maybe even purple. But what he found was neither. What he found was dark, dark blue, trimmed in lace and skimming low on her abdomen, higher at her hips, and clinging to her body like a second skin.

"You're so beautiful, Sam," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her thigh, fingers moving up the pale length to trail at the edges of her panties, eyes glancing up at her as he pressed a gentle kiss to her through the material.

What he found startled him out of whatever lust ridden stupor had come over him, separating reason from desire. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was even. She was asleep. Peacefully asleep, passed out. _Drunk,_ he thought, and the word screamed through him as he scrambled back off of the bed and away from her. She was drunk, and he had stripped down to her panties on her bed, and he'd been so close, so very close to taking advantage of her.

He felt sick at his stomach as he realized that he hadn't been close at all, that he _had_ taken advantage of her, and the only thing that saved it from being truly unforgivable was that she had passed out. Otherwise… otherwise he might have done something that he'd never be able to change, and without her to say yes, to say that it was okay, that she wanted it too. He'd practically forced himself on her while she was too drunk to say no.

"Oh, god," he whispered. "Oh, god. Forgive me." In that moment Danny wasn't sure whom, exactly, he was begging forgiveness from. But he was almost sure that it was the slim pale girl, passed on her bed in front of him.

---

The flight home was long, by choice. He spent hours trying to clear the guilt from his mind, knowing that he couldn't, praying all the same that it would stop eating into his soul. It seemed like every time he turned around since he returned, he was getting into one problem after another. Be it suspicious because of a sudden rise in grades, or the sudden backtracking in his relationship with Sam, he just couldn't win. It wasn't fair, and he'd decided that fair was a fairy tale by the time he dropped down to the cold steel of the Op Center and folded his wings along his back before closing his eyes and willing them back to wherever it was they went when he willed them away.

"Danny, a word," Aziraphale called from the shadows beneath the satellite array. Danny would have tensed, would have prepared himself for battle… If he hadn't expected it.

As it was, he'd expected it ever since he deserted his mentor and his mentor's Fallen friend back at the party to take his sister and friends home. He'd known it would happen the second Aziraphale realized there was a chance he'd heard what Crowley had said about an Antichrist and unleashing it, whatever that meant. Except that Danny was fairly certain that he knew what it meant.

He wasn't religious, not by a long shot, and he was fairly sure that his parents only looked at religion like something that was a conspiracy to keep the world from knowing about ghosts. Danny hadn't even been sure if he qualified to be religious and or even to be counted as a member of the human race until he'd found himself at the gates of heaven. Not the best way to find out, but then again, death kind of sucked.

But despite his lack of religious background, he wasn't stupid. He acted it, and he knew that his grades had been poor ever since he'd been given his ghost powers. But he was far from stupid, and he read. Science, math, those were easy. As easy as breathing. And so was reading. Before high school it had been hard to find Danny without a book somewhere nearby. Usually something to do with stars, space, NASA. But he'd read the bible and a few things written about heaven being in this solar system, on that star, or hung on Orion's Belt in the night sky.

Not that he believe any of it, of course, but he knew about the Antichrist. He knew about Armageddon. And he knew that Armageddon hadn't happened, because if it had there wouldn't be a world left. Not with the seven seals broken, with the Four Horsemen riding rampant, with Angel battling Fallen and God and Satan toe to toe for dominion of all existence.

And if Crowley had let that even begin to happen, no matter that he stopped it, it made him into an enemy in Danny's mind.

"They're passed out, all three of them," Danny said numbly, wondering if the unusual lassitude that was relaxing through him was a symptom of angelic depression, or if he'd been wrong about angel's needing sleep.

Aziraphale nodded. "I expected. I've talked to Crowley about it."

Danny shrugged. "What for? He's not sorry," he tossed out bitterly. "He was bored so he screwed up my un-life a little more."

"I'm sorry, Danny. If I'd known I'd've stopped him from doing it."

Danny looked away, hating the sudden burning in his eyes. "No," he finally said. "It's better this way. It's better that I know the things I learned tonight." That his sister and his best friend were practically sleeping with each other. That his girlfriend was ready to end it between them because he was keeping secrets from her, and it was tearing her into little pieces.

That he was a fool who, no matter that he was an angel now, would take advantage of the girl he loved while she was drunk. That he needed to keep tighter reign on his desire, his carnal thoughts. That maybe he should just ask Aziraphale if there were a way to stop those dead in their tracks. Not that Aziraphale would know, being an angel from the Beginning and all. He thought he'd read somewhere that angels created then didn't have sexual organs, or even sexual desire.

Given some of Aziraphale's preferences in clothing when Crowley wasn't interfering he could almost agree to that one. Because no one who was interested in getting any from either sex would walk around dressed in some of the get ups that Aziraphale managed to cook up. There were absolutely terrifying, and with a propensity to plaid that had even the most hardened fashion-phobes cringing in terror to see the angel in a five mile square radius of them.

"So," Aziraphale finally said into the silence. "What happened?"

"What do you mean? I told you," Danny said. "I found Tucker and Jazz practically having sex on a teacher's desk, Sam went nuts and started yelling at me about sex and how we should maybe break up. Halloween sucks, end of story."

"Danny," Aziraphale said, his tone soft. Suddenly, it seemed to Danny like Aziraphale was the loudest person in existence, because he knew just what Aziraphale was asking. "You've been gone a long time. It doesn't take that long to take the girl home."

Danny looked away, and then turned his back on the angel. "Nothing happened," he muttered. There was silence behind him, a disbelieving face greeting him when he finally glanced back at the other angel. Aziraphale's wings were arched and even the feathers themselves screamed liar at him. But how could he tell Aziraphale what had happened? How could he place that burden of knowledge on the angel's shoulders?

No. the consequences of his actions were his to deal with. He wasn't going to let anyone else take the fall for what he'd done. And he wasn't going to share it either.

"She was drunk," he finally said on a sigh. "Completely drunk, and over emotional. I had to wait for her while she showered." He almost laughed at Aziraphale's arched brow and shook his head. "She took it by herself. I was just insurance in case she passed out. And then I had to stay until she finally fell asleep."

"Is that all, Danny?" The angel's eyes were green, too green, like emeralds beneath a shining sun, and Danny shifted uncomfortably as he nodded. Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, almost like he was listening to someone who wasn't Danny, and he was struck with the sudden realization that Aziraphale probably _was_ listening to someone else.

After all, Aziraphale was watching Danny under God's orders. Wouldn't it be appropriate that God would be talking to him right now? Danny tensed and waited for the expected accusations, the verbal attack that would rip through his lies and have him spilling what he'd done to Sam. But it never came. After a moment Aziraphale's eyes refocused on Danny, and he shook his head.

"Alright, Danny. if that's what you say happened, then that's what happened," and Danny nearly blew it by sighing in relief as the fear seeped out of him. "But something's wrong, and I'm here to help you."

Danny shook his head and then dropped down to the decking beside Aziraphale. "I'm hurting her. I don't want to hurt her." Aziraphale said nothing, waiting for Danny to continue. When the young angel did, it was so completely different that what he expected that Aziraphale could only blink. "People are always saying that kids my age don't know what love is."

"But you don't," Aziraphale said,, not even bothering to pretend it was a question.

Danny laughed, the sound of it much more pained than anything the angel had ever heard. "No. no, I don't believe it. Do you know what it's like to be fourteen, and to realize that you love someone so much that you would die for them in a heartbeat?"

Aziraphale chuckled. "No, I can't say that I do. But you did die for her, Danny."

"I know." It was harsh, ripped from Danny's throat. "I've already hurt her so badly. I was so stupid, so scared to feel that much for someone else when I was so young. I paraded all of those other girls I liked in front of her, and I know it nearly killed her. I didn't care."

"And yet," Aziraphale offered gently, "you're with her now."

"No, I'm not!" Danny shouted as he pushed himself up from the decking and let his wings burst through his skin in a rush of wind, feathers and threads of white cotton flying. "I'm not with her! I'm dead! I'm fucking dead! There's no changing it, and I'm going to have to go back!"

His wings drooped against his back, small feathers drifting down as they settled dejectedly. "I'm going to have to go back, and what is that going to do to Sam? I don't know if she loves me, but she cares. She really cares, and it's going to kill her to lose me again."

"You begged to come back. You were told that it wouldn't be easy." Danny didn't say anything, only turned away from Aziraphale and looked up at the dark sky. Aziraphale tried again to break through whatever melancholic grip was holding his young charge. "God does not give us more than we can handle."

It was a mistake, but he'd had no way of knowing it. Danny's wings came up, stretching out and mantling furiously. "Bullshit," he hissed. "That's a lie, and I know it's a lie. This," and he let ectoenergy dance across his hands as he lifted them up, "was more than I could bear. I was going quietly crazy until I died. And now…" Danny let the green energy drop and dissipate into the air around him. "And now there's just too much for me to go crazy."

"I'm here to help you, Danny." It was all Aziraphale could offer Danny, and not nearly as much as the boy needed.

Danny shrugged. "What can you help me with? You can't stop my sister and my best friend from getting involved. You can't make Sam let everything rest. You can't make sure that Tucker will be too drunk to remember what Crowley said."

And silently Danny had to admit to himself that Aziraphale couldn't answer the questions that teemed in his mind about Crowley, and what he'd heard.

"My life is just a mess," Danny finally said, and could only sigh when Aziraphale didn't disagree.

---

Her head was fuzzy and, if it didn't quite hurt, Jazz was quite sure that she was lucky that it didn't. Her mouth felt like it had grown years' worth of mold, and it tasted like something had died there. The only thing that she could think of when she woke up was of getting her hands on her toothbrush and a large tube of toothpaste. A very large, very minty tube of toothpaste.

Danny had already been up, the bathroom was foggy and the mirror was misted over with steam. He couldn't have walked out of it much before she walked in, in fact. There were still damp places on the rug beneath her feet as she searched for her prizes and proceeded to layer toothpaste on the brush before scrubbing vigorously at her teeth and tongue. Anything to rid herself of the terrible taste in her mouth.

She finished, rinsed and spat and then drew a hand across the mirror to leave a clear swathe behind, moisture beading but hiding her reflection. A reflection that showed a very pale girl, red hair still held back by the hair tie she'd used the night before, and straw. Poking from her hair, a piece from the neck of her costume, another piece scratching behind her ear before she plucked it out. And as she did Jazz's eyes closed as she had the faintest flash of thought.

Lips, pressed to the strong pulse in her neck,, a tongue swiping across it hotly.

Jazz shook her head before tugging at another piece of the straw and dropping it into the garbage, then another before finally ripping the costume off with a frustrated growl as her fingers dug into skin that was sensitive and almost pink with bruises. She swallowed as the memory of lips ghosting down her skin hit her again, so vividly that she half believed that she wasn't alone, but it was gone in a moment, leaving her with nothing but the impression of her brother. Her very angry brother.

"Oh, what happened?" she asked her reflection before shucking the rest of her clothes off and stepping into the shower, turning the water on as hard as she could, and as hot as her skin could take it.

It was Tucker. She knew that it was Tucker, but for the life of her, she couldn't ever remember doing anything with him. But she had. Jazz knew that she had, and she knew that she had enjoyed it, and that Danny had… Danny had stopped them before they'd gone too far. She closed her eyes as the spray pounded down around her head before turning it off and reaching for a towel, wrapping it around herself and trying not to think about how nice Tucker had felt above her, his mouth on her.

It wasn't right. He was younger, he was her brother's best friend. He was a nerdy technogeek who couldn't stand to be separated from his precious technology for more than a split second. It wasn't rational, it made no sense for someone like her to be attracted to someone like him. She ducked her head out of the bathroom and headed straight for her room as she realized the coast was clear. Jeans, a simple white blouse, and tennis shoes were dug out.

It wasn't just attraction. She could admit, silently, to herself. She cared about Tucker. And not like she cared about Danny or Sam, the former being a pain in the neck brother and the latter being practically a sister. She'd be a sister-in-law someday, Jazz knew that. She could see it in the way that Danny looked at Sam, especially since returning from his entrapment. Even if he was acting strangely and doing his best to sabotage the relationship, she could see how much he loved the slim dark girl.

But what she felt for Tucker was… so different. She found herself mesmerized by the feel of his lips, the texture of his hands, the way he tasted. And even if that was just physical attraction screaming at her, it didn't explain why she thought the way he fiddled with anything electronic was cute, or missed his beret on the few occasions it wasn't present. It certainly didn't explain the completely irrational desire for him to hold her hand, or the pleasure she often found in just talking to someone who could understand her.

And didn't explain the way she would sometimes just have the urge to smile because he smiled at her.

Jazz shook her head as she pulled her brush through her hair and laid it on her dresser before tying her hair back with her usual headband. And when she opened her door it was to find Tucker standing there, one hand raised as if to knock, mouth opened in surprise, and a very worried, almost guilty expression on his face.

"Jazz," he said, and blinked at her for a moment. "I, uh, I wanted to apologize for last night."

"What?" she asked, not understanding. How could he want to apologize for what he'd done? Did it mean— Jazz cut her speculations off in mid-diatribe before her conviction wavered. She pasted a smile onto her face. "There's nothing to apologize for," she said, and watched as his eyes flickered.

"Are you sure? Because Danny said that—"

"I don't care what Danny said, Tuck," Jazz said monotonously. "But I wanted to talk to you. Whatever this is, what's going on between us, I'm not interested anymore."

"What?" It was Tucker's turn to be floored. He'd thought, at the very least, Jazz would pissed with him, but not that she'd end it completely.

Jazz shrugged, her eyes shying away from his. "It's over. I'm not interested in playing this game anymore."

"It's not a game," Tucker managed to get out around the lump that had swelled up in his throat, but it was too late. The older girl was rushing past him down the stairs with him in hot pursuit as Tucker tried to figure out why she'd done it, what the hell had just happened.

It didn't escape Tucker's notice that Jazz studiously avoided her bother when she darted through the living room to the front door, but Danny's hand shot out and grabbed onto him before he could follow, and Tucker bit back the curse that wanted to come screaming out as he watched the door swing closed behind Jazz. "Let me go," he commanded, but Danny didn't.

"Let her go, Tuck. You don't really remember last night, but I do, and I think she does," Danny said instead, drawing Tucker back from the door and shaking his head. "You were both pretty drunk. You really don't remember anything?"

Tucker narrowed his eyes at the hopeful tone in Danny's voice. "If I remembered something I'd tell you. Do you think I want to forget something like that?" He flushed brilliantly as he realized what he'd just said, and to whom, but it was out and Danny was turning his back on Tucker. Tucker knew that Danny was fighting with his temper, a truly vicious beast when let out, and said nothing.

"Danny! Where did your sister go? I never heard her come in last night."

Danny shrugged as he pasted on a fake smile that Tucker quietly thought wouldn't full anyone except the Fenton's. "I think she was going to the library, Mom. You know Jazz, never a free moment."

"Oh," Maddie said as she looked her son up and down. He'd been so well behaved, such an exemplary student, son. He'd done everything they'd asked of him without a complaint and never tried to break the rules and sneak out while he was grounded. Surely it was worth some reward, and no matter what Jazz said or the fact that Danny had eventually gotten into it, Maddie was quite sure that the Halloween party hadn't exactly been a reward.

"Danny," she began, and paused with a smile. "Get out of here, Danny."

"What?" The horror written on his face was almost amusing before Maddie patted his shoulder as she looked up at him.

"Go on, go to the park. Have some fun. You have two hours. I don't want to see you back before your time is up, or," and she gave him false menace, "I'll ground you again."

"Really?" Danny asked, then smiled as she nodded her head.

He never said another thing as he grabbed Tucker by the arm and darted out the door, making it half a block down the street before slowing enough that Tucker managed to put his feet beneath him and start moving under his own power, instead of being dragged. Tucker grinned and pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Sam's number on reflex.

"He's bailed out for two hours, meet us at the park," he said on her half asleep hello, and then hung up without waiting for any of the happy sounds he was sure would follow. Personally, Tucker liked his hearing where it was, and the shrilling of Sam's voice when she was truly pleased was a rare sound he could have lived forever without knowing it existed.

"Sam?" Danny asked, apprehensively, and Tucker nodded.

Suddenly, Danny's two hour reprieve seemed not so wonderful as he realized he was about to be faced with his girlfriend. Not usually a bad thing, but considering what he'd done to her last night… Oh god, he could only hope that she didn't remember it. Surely it wasn't too much to ask that she join in Tucker's amnesiac drunk club, surely someone or something would help him out, just a little.

Danny sighed as Tucker took the lead, and he followed the other boy to the park, and to the slim figure in the distance that was somehow already waiting when they got there. Surely someone wouldn't be so cruel that she would remember. She would hate him if she did.

Maybe, he thought with bitter amusement, he should go home early and get grounded some more, so he could avoid everyone. It might just be easier.

---

**Credit for the pajama pants goes to Ivy Adrena.**

---

**Apologies for taking so long, and if this isn't all as good as I normally write, please forgive me. I've been horribly sick; Nonny can vouch since we've spoken on the phone practically nonstop. The fact that she had to inform me that she knew how sick I was by the fact that my writing was flat… well, it's demoralizing, especially since it's going on 2 weeks and I'm still sick. But I'm getting a bit better, and I've finally managed to feel well enough to write something. Hope you enjoy, sorry for lack of responses, reviews, and updates.**

**cd**


	12. Chapter 11

Ravens Claws

11

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

Sam showed up at the park looking a little worse for wear. She smiled sheepishly at Danny as she hugged him in greeting, then pulled away her blood shot, tired eyes looking into his very seriously.

"You took care of me last night?" she asked. Danny opened his mouth, did he take care of her? Well that was a good question, but he didn't really want to debate it.

"I brought you home, yes," Danny told her.

Sam looked down, "What happened? I-I really don't remember anything, except maybe you dancing with Ember." She met his eyes again, expression filled with hurt and jealousy. Danny let out a breath of relief.

"You're sure?" Danny asked as he put his hands on her shoulders as she nodded. "Nothing much happened. Someone spiked the punch. I took you home."

"Oh," Sam replied softly then lifted up on tip toes so she could place a kiss on his cheek, the look in her eyes making it obvious that she expected him avoid her, instead he turned so he could kiss her mouth, trying hard not to push her away as she melted against him, sighing in relief.

"Thanks," she told him as she pulled away and Danny immediately felt guilty.

"You don't have to thank me," he whispered softly. The look on her face as she turned from him to Tucker told him that he still wasn't out of hot water, she still wanted answers. His stomach ached at the thought, and he hoped that he could avoid her for a little longer.

"What about you?" Sam asked as she let go of Danny and kicked at one of Tucker's legs.

Tucker smiled shakily at Sam. "I don't remember much," he said then looked at Danny who suddenly looked very stern. "But I really, really, really want to...well need to." He looked at Danny whose face was now cold and stony.

Sam smiled tenderly at Tucker who was obviously upset. "The last thing I remember, you and Jazz were standing at the punch bowl, quietly getting drunk, and making out. It was pretty shocking. Jazz asked me to guard the punch bowl and then dragged you off. I can only guess at what happened next."

"Oh god!" Tucker gasped as a few memories from the evening assailed him. His hands and mouth on her beautiful ivory skin, which tasted heavenly. He remembered some cheesy line about angels and heaven and sin and Jazz practically attacking him. He put a hand on either side of his head, trying to remember, but it was all fuzzy and dreamlike.

"I happened next," Danny said coldly. "I appeared just before they, umm…" Danny looked down at his feet. "Just before they sealed the deal, if you know what I mean."

Sam gasped as she smirked at Tucker. "And you don't remember?"

Tucker only groaned in response, "Not really. And now she won't talk to me." His mind raced, trying to recapture her actions this morning.

"Jazz is a bit..," Sam started then looked at Danny and smiled a little then laughed. "A bit on the reserved side, Tuck. Give her space."

"Stay away from Jazz," Danny growled. Tucker gave Danny a sad look then dropped his head in defeat. He closed his eyes tight. He could remember now. It was there in his mind, Jazz trying to unbutton his pants and then Danny standing over them like an avenging angel. Tucker took a deep breath. Angel. He looked at Danny for a moment. He could hear someone saying it, clear as day in a stuffy British accent, "You're an angel, Danny."

Tucker shook his head. Danny hadn't been dressed as an angel! He had wings though. He wasn't an angel. He had been dressed as a flying monkey Tucker adjusted his hat then looked at Danny and Sam who were watching him agonize. He decided that he was just too messed up to remember. The important thing was to talk to Jazz. His heart melted and skipped and felt giddy all at once. He had her in his arms, he kissed and touched her and she…she was mad at him.

"Guys," he said as he caught up with Danny and Sam who had started to move away. "I need to go home. Uh, not feeling well!" Danny looked at Tucker suspiciously.

Sam put her hand on Tucker's shoulder for a minute. "Then you should go home and rest," she told him kindly, hoping it didn't sound like she was trying to rush him off. She wanted to talk to Danny about a few things, alone.

"I'll call you guys later," Tucker said as he gave her a quick hug then turned, trying not to make eye contact with Danny.

"Stay away from Jazz, Tuck!" Danny called. Tucker paused a moment, then ran.

They both watched Tucker go and then Sam turned and gave Danny a look of exasperation, then said, "So last night was a complete and utter disaster." She rubbed one arm then shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight, which was making her throbbing head even worse.

"It was," Danny agreed as he put his arm around her. She leaned against him and sighed in relief, but whether it was because she wasn't feeling well, or because she was relieves that he instigated the touching, he wasn't sure.

"Let's just hope your birthday is a little better," Sam chuckled as Danny lead her to a bench and they sat. She cuddled into his arms and sighed. Danny bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment then began to stroke her hair.

She was quiet for so long, he was sure she was going to give him a free pass and let things slide. He pulled her closer and she lifted her face and placed a warm kiss to his neck. He shivered and closed his eyes as he warred with his desire for her over doing what he considered was right, which was not desiring her.

"So what do you want for your birthday," she asked sleepily. Danny frowned. He remembered what he answered the last time she asked that question, but now everything was different. He was different. His wants really hadn't changed, but…

"Well?" Sam asked, her voice now filled with tension.

"How about world peace?" Danny asked his voice filled with mirth. Sam stiffened in his arms and started pulling away, not amused by his joking.

"Sam..," he said as she leaned forward. He couldn't see her face, but he didn't need to. She was hurt again and he hated it.

"Last time I asked you," she began softly. "What you wanted for your birthday, you said me."

Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath and told her truthfully, "I don't want you for my birthday, Sam, I want you forever." Sam turned and looked at him with tear filled eyes.

"You're not just saying that because…because of everything?" She asked.

"No," Danny answered. He wanted to tell her that he was here for her. He'd dig out of hell, escape out of heaven if he could, just to be with her. The fact that he couldn't tell her those words, hurt, but it was better than the consequences, being recalled to heaven and having to wait a lifetime to see her again, he knew it was going to happen sooner or later, he just preferred the later, way later.

Sam looked at him thoughtfully for a moment then leaned forward and kissed him gently. Danny held back a moment before relaxing into the embrace, her sob of relief vibrating against his tongue as he tasted her, tore at his heart.

"Come home with me," Sam told him as she broke away from him and looked into his eyes. "My parents are gone for the day." Danny searched her hopeful face and looked desperately for a way to refuse without hurting her.

"Mom only gave me two hours," he said then reclaimed her lips so she didn't have the opportunity to feel rejected. His back itched uncomfortably and he longed to just release his wings, wrap them around her and…Suddenly his cell phone rang.

Sam growled in frustration then rested her head on his shoulder as he answered. Maddie was calling to remind him that she'd only given him two hours and if he had wandered too far away, it was time to turn back. Danny interpreted her words as a secret message. Was he being told that he was all right? He hadn't fallen last night? He hadn't wandered too far away, and maybe now it was time to turn back? Danny took the message very seriously and in that moment, renewed his resolve, he just needed to figure out how to do that without hurting Sam.

"You have to go soon?" Sam asked sadly. Danny nodded and smoothed his hand along her cheek.

"I'm sorry," Danny told her, for once he was relieved that he was grounded. He was at least able to use it as an excuse to stay away from Sam without hurting her feelings. He wondered if there was anything he could do to extend his sentence, it was stupid really, but it gave him a strange sense of security.

"It's not your fault," Sam replied tiredly. "I just wish you're parents would stop being so stupid and lift your grounding."

Danny laughed a little. "Yeah," he agreed then sighed as they sat together in silence for the rest of their hour together.

---

Jazz had driven around until she was sure Tucker and Danny were gone, then she slipped back into the house. She felt horrible on so many levels. She felt bad for getting drunk, even though it wasn't her fault, bad for letting someone spike the punch when she was supposed to be chaperoning, and bad for what happened with Tucker.

"Morning, Sweetie." Her mother said as she walked into the kitchen. "You may want to escape for awhile. I'm tearing the kitchen apart. I swear I saw another mouse in here."

"Need any help?" Jazz asked tiredly. Maddie smiled at her daughter and told her she'd love some help, but it wasn't necessary.

"You don't have to," Maddie told her daughter.

"It's okay," Jazz replied. She needed to do something to get her mind off of what happened last night, and Tucker. "I'm just going to run upstairs and change."

Tucker's first words to her had been an apology, and as she ran up the stairs she tried not to cry. She was so glad Danny had shown up. She was so glad nothing truly serious had happened, though they'd been very close. Tucker was the kind of boy who chased any and all girls. Jazz decided that he would have taken advantage of the situation no matter who it was, that she meant nothing to him and he…well he meant nothing to her.

She was halfway up to her room when the door bell rang and Maddie called for her to answer it. Jazz hesitated a moment then bounced down the steps and opened the door. She almost slammed it shut again as she set her eyes on Tucker, but the rules of politeness dictated that she at least see what he wanted.

"Can I talk to you?" Tucker asked weakly.

"There isn't anything to talk about," Jazz answered coolly, the turquoise eyes Tucker could remember filled with desire, were stormy and slightly red rimmed.

Tucker looked down at his feet. "Do…do you remember everything?"

"About last night?" Jazz questioned, Tucker nodded and she sighed. "I remember a little."

Tucker swallowed hard. "We need to talk about it, about us..," he told her.

"There is no, us." Jazz said as she put her hands on her hips. "That means there's nothing to talk about." Her heart squeezed painfully at the heartbroken expression on his face.

"Jazz," he whispered in a tone that reminded her of his pleading with her the night before as she pawed at him. A blush rose on her cheeks at the memory.

"No!" Jazz growled as she started to slam the door.

"Please," he begged and she stopped. Jazz closed her eyes a moment and did her best to will her heart to slow down. Her body betrayed her, her heart betrayed her. They both wanted to swing the door open wide, fall into his arms and beg him to continue whatever they were doing last night. Her mind however, remained rational and she flatly refused to be run by her desires, she considered herself too smart for that.

"Tucker," she finally said as she won the war against herself. "We were drunk. I don't even know how that happened, but I do know it was completely out of character for me to act in such an untoward manner."

"I know," Tucker replied, he was relieved that at least she was going to let him talk, and he hoped he could talk her into at the very least not killing their fledgling relationship.

"The fact is," Jazz continued stiltedly. "Things just can't continue on between us. I hope you understand. I really do care about you, and I do like you. I…I just really can't play this game I…"

"What game?" Tucker interrupted fearfully, wondering if Jazz had just been stringing him along. He took a deep panicked breath and Jazz started to close the door.

"Just let it go, Tuck," she said with tears shimmering in her eyes. "It's just better for the both of us if we just forget it all."

"But Jazz!" Tucker called as he moved forward, but it was too late the door was closed and he was left standing his heart in his hands. He pressed his forehead to the door.

"I think I love you," he said as all his energy drained away and finally he dropped down on the front steps and buried his face into his hands. He'd never felt more like crying in his whole life.

He sat on the steps and did everything he could to recall what happened with Jazz, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. But, his memories were strange and convoluted. He could remember the word angel. Had he called her an angel? And then he heard it again, a British accented voice. _"You're an angel, Danny_." There was another. What did he say? _"You're dead, why should you care?"_

"Did that really happen?" Tucker asked out loud. His desperation to talk to Jazz was heightened. He needed to reason with his memories, they were too convoluted and mixed together and he couldn't sort anything out. He sighed, the problem was he'd want to kiss Jazz first and then talk…and even worse she didn't even want to talk to him at all.

Tucker groaned in misery then stood. He couldn't call and talk to Sam about this. She was too emotional lately, too caught up in whatever was going on with Danny. He thought it was best to wait, after all, Danny an angel? He laughed slightly at the idea. No he wasn't an angel, he was a ghost hybrid, half ghost. The very thought of Danny as an angel, a messenger of God, made Tucker laugh.

---

Jazz kept her hand over her mouth as she leaned against the door. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure it was going to pound its way out of her chest and she'd be dead.

She'd heard him as the door clicked shut, his words were unmistakable, "I think I love you." Her heart stopped and she almost reopened the door. Almost. She almost made what she considered a possible mistake. Jazz did not make mistakes. Yes, sometimes she got things wrong. Yes, sometimes she messed up, but when it came to the order of her life, she did not jump without looking.

"I think I love you," the words came out so clear, so sincere, so heart broken. She leaned against the door, wanting to be close to him as tears poured down her face. She understood how the situation would look to most people, they would say she was stupid, they would say, he loves you! Go be with him! But, Jazz knew better. The whole looking before you leap philosophy never worked for her. Yes, she took risks, but they were calculated risks.

She wasn't going to lie to herself. She wanted Tucker, badly, but it was a mistake. Her latent desires had been released by the consumption of alcohol and she'd given in when normally she would have stayed reserved. She would liked to have seen how her sweet relationship with Tucker was going to develop, but it moved too fast. The things she did with him last night, she did not do. With anyone.

"All right," Jazz said to herself as she remained against the door. "Let's reason this out. What did he say? He said, he thinks he loves you. He didn't say he loves you, he only thinks he does; therefore, he is not one hundred percent sure of his feelings for you."

She closed her tear swollen eyes tight and remembered how it felt to be held in his arms, the taste of his kisses, the warmth of is skin. She cared about him, she wouldn't say she loved him but she cared. He said he thought he loved her, it was impressive really. Had he said, "And I love you." She would have been able to reason away the believability of the statement. He only thought he loved her, it was open for exploration, a tantalizing possibility.

She turned, and before she could change her mind, or second guess herself, she swung the door open with the intention of telling Tucker that she thought maybe it was possible that she thought she loved him too, but he was gone and standing at the door was Danny's new friend, Crowley.

"You don't remember me," Crowley told Jazz as he raised his eyebrows.

Jazz looked at him for a moment then said, "Hi, can I help you?"

"Yes," Crowley said in an extremely business like tone. "I am here to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Jack Fenton. I am from the school."

"From the school?" Jazz answered.

"A councilor," Crowley told her.

Jazz's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I know all the councilors at Casper High. I've never met you before."

"I work for the district," Crowley told her then produced a business card which Jazz took and read avidly.

"Come in," she said as she stepped aside, her eyes still examining the business card. "Have a seat." She pointed to the couch.

"Thank you," Crowley told her in sweet almost seductive tone.

Jazz looked at him a moment then found herself floundering. "I um…I'm going to get my parents."

"Thank you," Crowley told her again then smiled a cat like grin.

---

"Dr. Crowley," Maddie said as she walked into the living room. Crowley stood and shook her hand then looked at Jack as he appeared in the room, giving him a suspicious look.

"I'm Maddie Fenton and this is my husband, Jack," Maddie introduced. "Jazz said you're a councilor at Danny's school?"

"Yes," Crowley told them.

"What has he done?" Jack growled.

"Well," Crowley started.

Jack interrupted with, "See Mads, I told you we should have never let him out, we should have put him in the Fenton stockades."

"Stockades?" Crowley asked curiously.

Maddie laughed as she pinched Jack and hissed for him to "Ut upsay about the okadestays.". She smiled sweetly.

"I prefer the iron maiden," Crowley told Jack honestly, well he did, he'd gotten a special dispensation from hell for its invention. "But truly, people torture themselves far better than any mere device."

Jack looked at Crowley for a moment then smiled nervously. Maddie patted his arm then said, "You wanted to talk to us about Danny?"

Crowley smiled an almost bitter smile. "We've been watching him since his return." It wasn't a lie Danny had the attention of both heaven and hell.

"Watching him?" Jack asked curiously.

"And we are very concerned about the pressure he's under," Crowley continued as he ignored Jack's question. Yes he was concerned about the pressure Danny was under, and he was concerned that it just wasn't enough.

"As are we Dr. Crowley," Maddie said sweetly. "We've been keeping Danny close to home; you have nothing to worry about."

"That's precisely what we are worried about Mrs. Fenton," Crowley began. "You see Danny has been working so hard at earning your trust again. We're afraid that he's going to snap. We don't believe that he's a flight risk."

"Well that's a relief," Maddie said.

"But," Crowley continued. "We spoke of medieval torture devices, the iron maiden, the stockades. One of the worst tortures is the press. The victim is laid on the table, a plank is placed over him and rocks of varying weight are slowly added until the victim either confesses or is crushed to death. It is excruciating." Crowley knew, he'd seen it done one more than one occasion. After all, he did start the Spanish Inquisition and Torquemada had to be inspired by someone. He smiled.

"We know Danny is under pressure," Maddie said. "That's why we're keeping him close to home."

Crowley nodded. "Yes, but he believes you don't trust him. We fear that the pressure will cause him to run away again. Show Danny you trust him. I understand you have grounded him. I'm asking you to lift your sanctions, give him his freedom. Show him you believe in him. It's what he needs right now."

"I don't know…" Jack started. "Why should we listen to you? You work for the school district?"

"Yes," Crowley said. "And you can trust me I assure you. I'll base all my licenses to practice psychology on the belief that Danny will be fine if you just relax your hold on him a bit. Perhaps it was your putting pressure on him which forced him to run in the first place. After all you are the one with the stockades, sir." Jack opened his mouth to say something then let his shoulders drop, thinking that Crowley had a point.

"So you're saying that we should act like nothing happened, like he never ran away?" Maddie asked.

"That's what I'm saying. Lift a stone from his back," Crowley answered.

"All right," Maddie said then sighed as she looked at Jack who nodded in agreement. "We'll tell him when he gets home."

"Good," Crowley said as he stood. "I must be going. I have other parents to visit, most who are not as caring to their children as you fine people obviously are."

"Thank you," Jack said as he heartily shook Crowley's hand.

"No," Crowley said smoothly, if Jack had been aware he would have seen Crowley's yellow eyes glittering with glee. "Thank you Mr. Fenton."

Crowley stayed in human form as he walked down the street, all too aware that Fenton eyes were watching. He rounded the corner and came face to face with a very angry Aziraphale.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Crowley?" he asked, his feathers bristling, his very aura crackling with righteous anger.

Crowley smiled. "Don't worry, Angel," he said smoothly. "I know what I'm doing." Aziraphale looked at him suspiciously. Crowley continued to smile, pleased that he had, in less than twenty four hours, managed to place several heavy weights on Danny's back, and soon he would break, and everything could go back to normal and Crowley could go back to his business and cease worrying about the ineffable plan, at least for a little longer.


	13. Chapter 12

Ravens Claws

12

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

Sam Manson had never been one to take the simplest answer, or to go anywhere but the source. She'd found out any number of interesting and informative bits of information that way. That tenacity was, in fact, what finally got Danny to see what was right in front of him: her.

Of course, if Tucker was to be believed, Danny had seen it all along. He was simply of the opinion that Danny just needed time to convince himself that it was a good thing—that the world wouldn't come to an end just because Danny Fenton and Sam Manson finally started dating. Two years was a little much, but Sam could understand. She'd hesitated over the very same things that Danny probably had, the most obvious being the possibility of ruining the dynamic of their friendship and the trio.

Well, she wasn't about to let that happen. That was why she'd followed Danny home, albeit discreetly, and been there to see Crowley leave. Danny had gone in through the ceiling like he usually did and missed the man. Of all people to be at Danny's house, what was Crowley doing there? He'd all but admitted that he was only in Danny's life in relation to his ghost half and hero gig, so what was he doing there with Danny's parents and sister, and in the middle of a Sunday at that?

No matter; Danny was safe, or as safe as he ever was, in his parents' house. No doubt being told that his sentence was extended, or that there was some new stipulation.

It would probably mean less time with him, but Sam pushed that unhappy thought back as she cut through the alley next to Fenton Works to try and head Crowley off on the next street over. She was running, though much more silent than most people would expect of a twig-slim girl in heavy boots, but as she rounded the corner and skidded to a halt about half a block from the dark man, her eyes went wide.

Crowley wasn't alone, the other one was with him. And the other one, Aziraphale—she remembered his name—had wings. Wings just like Danny's, without the glow. He'd worn wings to the party, she remembered through the headache that made her stomach sick. But why would a grown man still be walking around in part of a costume? Then the wings moved and she realized that they weren't a costume, they were attached.

"He's a ghost," she whispered as her hand came up to cover her mouth, as if she was afraid to say it out loud and be heard. Both of them, they'd both had wings the night before, but Crowley was wingless now.

They were speaking, but was being said she was too far away to hear it. She knew that Aziraphale wasn't happy by the way his wings stiffened, the feathers seeming tense and rigid, but Crowley seemed entirely amused, a smile stretched across his face as Aziraphale turned away. If she hadn't been watching Sam was sure she would have missed the way the winged man blurred. Her eyes itched and Sam reached up to rub them before looking back at Crowley and Aziraphale. Aziraphale was gone and Crowley's smile was fading into something akin to relief.

It was enough proof for Sam. It was becoming more and more obvious that there was something else going on with this Crowley character, and her boots hit the ground hard as she took strong strides towards him, her slim figure intercepting him before he realized that escape was probably his best option.

"I don't care how much I should trust Danny," she said before Crowley could do more than arch a dark brow over the top of his sunglasses. "You have answers. I know you do, and I know that Danny trusts you so he won't tell me anything."

It was unexpected, her accusation, and not at all off the mark, but Crowley had dealt with things much worse than an angry sixteen year old mortal female. God only knew what would happen if he bent beneath the anger in her stare, but if he gave her answers then the ineffable plan would be changed, and Crowley wasn't about to stand for that. Not when the chaos he was causing was supposed to help him stay out of it. And he certainly didn't want have to answer to his employer from any deviations from the mission that had been laid out for him.

So he smirked at her in a smile that he'd honed over centuries in Hell, a smile that had made even demons cower in fear of whatever mischief Crowley was planning. "_If_," he stressed, "I have answers, why ever would I share them with you, little girl?"

She had a backbone that was a hell of a lot stronger than Crowley would have given her credit for. Most likely because she was in love with the young Prodigal, but she wouldn't have been a worthy Anchor if she hadn't had the strength for it. As it was, Crowley bent his head in a slight movement to acknowledge that inner fire when her gaze didn't waver from his. It was almost too bad what he was about to do.

"I have a right to know," she said softly, her voice never wavering as Sam stared at the dark lenses of Crowley's sunglasses. "I'm his girlfriend. I'm his _best_ friend." She paused for a moment, her gaze faltering as she stumbled over the next words.

"He wouldn't be Danny Phantom if it weren't for me."

Crowley let the smirk widen ever so slightly, knowing that it would unnerve her and make the girl more susceptible to his manipulations. "And yet he does seem to be avoiding you, doesn't he, my dear?"

She flinched visibly, which pleased Crowley to no end, even if he wasn't truly pleased to be hurting the girl. Under other circumstances he could easily see himself working to recruit her, a double-edged victory all in on its own. Now he only sought to break her, and there was no pleasure in the breaking. It was a sign of how far he'd fallen, though the thought shouldn't have bothered him, that he was misdirecting a teenager in the matters of love. But no matter, a demon had to do what a demon had to do.

"Ah, yes," drawled Crowley, thanking his foresight in spiking the punch at the Halloween party. There was no way the girl would remember the details, not with the quantities she'd drunk at the sight of the Prodigal and the little flame-haired ghost. "I do recall that young Danny was dancing with—what was her name again?"

Sam's breath hitched in her chest and dropped her face down, blinking her eyes at the sudden heat burning behind them. "Ember," she whispered. It was odd that Sam found herself suddenly cold, despite the unseasonably warm air. She swallowed and turned away, not even glancing back at Crowley as she started off down the street, arms wrapped around herself.

Crowley watched her go with nary a move, as still as only those already dead can be. No. There was no pleasure at all.

xXx

Alcohol, Tucker decided as he forced two more aspirin down his throat, was truly evil. Between the hangover and whatever he called it with Jazz, he'd never felt worse in his life. Granted, every time he had to replace a PDA it came kind of close. But this was just pure hell.

Darkness helped, and so did food, though Tucker didn't have the stomach to participate as he usually did in dinner. A shame, too, since his mom had fixed a roast. But Tucker could scare bring himself to care about it as he remember how Jazz had looked at him that afternoon. She'd been so… Pretty wasn't the word he was looking for, and she wasn't a classic beauty. But there was always something about Jasmine Fenton that Tucker noticed. Polish, elegance, grace. Her more mundane intelligence, however genius it was. He was attracted to her, simply put, and had been for years.

He'd never thought for real that she might have any interest in him, and the almost romance they'd been playing at for the last few weeks only cemented him what he'd been thinking since she first told him that it, whatever it was called, was over.

That is this was even half of what Danny had suffered through for two years before he and Sam got together, then Tucker was a right asshole for pushing his best friends into uncomfortable situations.

But at least they could get their happy ending. No matter the problems Danny's disappearance and subsequent reappearance had caused for his best friends, they were still together, and they still wanted to be together. It was a huge point in their favor. More than just a point; more like fifty billion points, because this was Danny and Sam he was thinking about, and if there was one thing Tucker knew about his two best friends, it was that there was no one more stubborn than either of them. Except for maybe the other, and in that case Tucker would never know who was more stubborn. And what they wanted, they held on to like rabid Chihuahuas with a bone.

They wanted each other, and that hadn't changed, even if Tucker couldn't figure out why half the time Danny was pushing Sam away. Even when the halfa was, for eyes that knew he could easily see how desperately Danny loved Sam.

Desperate.

Tucker snorted a little at the word and immediately regretted it when it made the aching in his skull throb a little more harshly. Oh, but he'd put on a good show for his parents. Nothing to even imply that he'd been drinking, unintentional is it was. No, just a faint slowness about him, letting his mind stay preoccupied. The lack of eating, the way he'd hunched over pretending his stomach ached. He'd go to school in the morning, that was for sure, but he'd be able to suffer through the hangover alone until his mind slowed enough for him to sleep.

It was only then that Tucker realized that twice in the last fifteen minutes had he actually shied away from thinking about Jazz specifically. Not since that first thought he'd had after escaping dinner and downing the pain pills. No, he'd meandered through Danny and Sam and their relationship and—desperately, he supposed—thought about his own subterfuge to hide how badly he felt and why from his parents.

Thinking about her hurt. He could understand that, accept that. No matter that Tucker wasn't at the top of the class, he wasn't stupid. Somehow none of his friends were, even if their grades didn't' always show it. Well, Jazz's always did, but she wasn't exactly a friend like Sam and Danny were.

He closed his eyes as he lay back, wishing vaguely for an icepack and forgetting it in an instant as he decided to just let Jazz go for the moment. Tomorrow morning would be time enough to think of her, when he was headache free and could cope with knowing that he'd made her cry. Tucker's heart clenched in his chest a little as the memory of her staring at him, eyes dull and red rimmed, flashed through his mind before he breathed in a breath and dutifully pushed it away. Thinking of Jazz right now wasn't going to do anything to help him, or to help him figure out what Danny was hiding.

That was something Jazz could appreciate—the way he was forging ahead with the investigation.

With a sigh Tucker rubbed at the bridge of his nose, hesitant to squeeze it the way he liked to when he was stressed out and thinking. He was too afraid that it would make his head work worse and make the aspirin take longer to kick in. Even without his little ritual, Tucker easily slipped into the half focused state of mind he played his video games in. It was how he remembered where things were and mission details, and now he tried to use it to pull the mostly forgotten, alcohol hazed memories of the Halloween party forward in his head to sort them through.

It hurt, the way he forced his brain to concentrate and think, but for the moment Tucker could avoid thinking about that aspect of his meditations. There was something there, something that Tucker was missing. He'd wondered about it after the park, but now that he was actively seeking the memory Tucker was surer than before that there was something he wanted, needed, to remember. For Sam's sake, if no one else's. so close, it was almost there, but every time Tucker tried to think about it all he could remember was the taste of skin, the feel of silken coppered hair against his skin, slim fingers fumbling at his waist.

Tucker jerked himself upright, groaning as his head throbbed and cradling it in his hands. he would never, ever drink again. Ever. "This is a fate worse than death," Tucker whispered to himself, and then his body stiffened, the aching head forgotten as his fingers near clawed at his skin.

"_You're dead, why do you care?"_

And there it was, what he'd worked so hard to remember. Except it was the stupidest thing ever, because of course Danny was already dead, at least half way. He was half a ghost, for heaven's sake, so why did Tucker want to remember that? Everything was slipping through the cracks, because he was sure he'd remembered it once before already. And it wasn't important at all, even if Tucker decided that Crowley and Aziraphale were ghosts like Danny. Which would make sense, because they did seem to know an awful lot about Danny and his… hobby. A ghost who was helping Danny would sure as hell know the basics.

And yet it didn't want to ring true to Tucker, and he knew it.

God. Tucker would give almost anything to run his memories by Jazz. She'd be able to sort through it in a heartbeat, hungover or not. That wasn't an option, there would be no chance to talk to Jazz about it. Just Tucker applying himself and thinking about it until he figured it out.

Tucker bit his lip. "I did already remember that," he said into the darkness, suddenly knowing without a doubt that not more than a few hours ago he'd been sitting on the Fenton's doorstep, and he'd remembered that sentence, and he knew suddenly that it had been Crowley who said it. Crowley, who was obviously not among the living. Which meant that Aziraphale wasn't either.

"_You're an angel, Danny."_

"Oh, my god," Tucker whispered again, fear burning suddenly though his veins, the echoing silence the only answer he got.

He shook his head, any headache suddenly gone and forgotten as Tucker stood up and stumbled to his desk, cursing as he tripped on a pair of jeans he'd carelessly left lying on the floor. He cursed again, this time more viciously as his backpack fell prey to his stumbling about, but after a moment he was safely ensconced in his chair and his computer was booted up and logged online, search window open and waiting.

It was laughable, that anyone, much less Aziraphale, would call Danny an angel. But since his miraculous return too many times had it happened. Danny's mother was doing it constantly, and it made the teenager squirm every time. Tucker had chalked it up to the fact that Danny disliked the situation, disliked being called something that he was far from being, literally or figuratively. And yet…

Tucker's fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed in his first search attempt, 'winged dead creatures.' Not the most normal of phrases, but it wasn't as stupid as Tucker supposed. There were a bunch of movie listings; Tucker ignored those and scrolled down. His first attempt turned out to be Grecian mythology, and apparently that was all limited to deities or their children. Danny was no god, and certainly not related to one. Tucker closed that site and tried again, revising his search a little before following it.

'Winged ghosts' pulled up yet more movie sites, which annoy Tucker to no end. "Come on, people. How many freaking movies can you make over dead things that fly?" he complained softly as he scrolled again.

His subsequent searches sucked even worse than the first. There was 'ghost with wings,' which mostly told him more than he ever wanted to know about the migration of monarch butterflies and the fact that it happened during the Day of the Dead. 'Ghostly wings' brought back Tucker's days of playing Magic the Gathering. He still had a couple thousand cards stuck about somewhere, even if half of them were Danny's. none were Sam's, she'd already been dominating Doomed while Tucker was trying to explore the full depths of his geekdom. At least he'd dragged Danny along for that ride.

He gave up after another half hour of searching as he realized that his beloved internet was going to fail him this time. There was no way he could put lie to anything either of Danny's mentors had said in his memory.

But, and oh Tucker was grateful for that but, there was nothing conclusive. Parapsychology was still a fledgling science, only officially recognized for a few years and martyred for decades before that. Even Jack and Maddie, true geniuses who could have had government contract after government contract, had been virtual pariahs in their field until they'd proved, once and for all, that ghosts existed. Once that was proven the things that went along with it just seemed to gain reputable standing, without any more proof. But Tucker had never cared much about that, because if magic or psionics existed, then there was a good chance that he'd learn about it the second someone used it on Danny.

Well, at least he'd never be bored.

"Alright," Tucker said to himself as he sat back in his chair, ignoring the computer for the time being. "They could have been joking, or at least teasing. I wouldn't put it past Crowley. Except I don't' think Aziraphale is the kind of person to do that."

Tucker mused on it for a moment more. "There's nothing proving it," he finally declared, and sighed as he ran a hand down his face, his glasses slipping down his nose to his lap. "But there's nothing to disprove it." He breathed in deeply. "Alright. Fine. I'll find it. So Danny grew wings. It's definitely not the strangest power he's ever developed."

As he turned his computer off, Tucker tried not to wonder how long it would take before the unease in the pit of his stomach eased. His answer wasn't any kind of answer at all, and Tucker knew it.

xXx

Monday morning came far too early for Danny, though he still hadn't found any limits to his wakefulness. He had, without any prodding from Aziraphale, spent most of the night awake and poring over an old copy of the bible that he'd dug out from under the sofa in the spare room. By the time breakfast came he mostly wished he hadn't, though he was pretty sure that he'd managed to unravel at least part the mystery what was Aziraphale. Not all of it, no, but some judicious poking about on the internet and his newfound knowledge certainly did lead Danny to believe that Aziraphale was much more important than he seemed to be.

It should have bothered Danny, it should have at least made him wonder what it was exactly that he was supposed to be doing with this reprieve from death. It probably would have, except that Danny was about two seconds away from begging someone to kill him, again, if only to escape his family.

Breakfast in the Fenton house before seven in the morning: it gave him a whole new understanding of the phrase 'hell on earth.'

It had started with his father dragging Danny and Jazz both out of bed at the godforsaken hour of five. And then being dragged back out of bed by their mother when they both tried to avoid and ignore their parents. Then had come the inevitable fight over who got the bathroom first (angel or not, Danny wasn't about to fight with his sister first thing in the morning over a shower—he already knew who would win that one) which left Danny at loose ends before thinking to commandeer his parents' while they were, God help him, making breakfast. His shower was cold and miserable while he tried to figure out how to completely avoid his parents, and it didn't improve when Danny realized there was no way to do it without winding up grounded again—which sounded great to him, except Danny wasn't entirely sure that they would.

So it was especially pitiful when Danny trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, clean and dressed for school, as wide awake as he'd been since he died, and just about as depressed as he had been since shooing Sam back to her house last night. His excuse: homework. Somehow, he doubted she bought it. Or maybe the guilt at the hurt on her face was trying to catch up to him, not that he hadn't been chewing it over all night as he studied up on Aziraphale's ineffable plan. Or God's, rather, not that Danny could figure out anything to do with it.

Once he managed to get out of breakfast alive—Danny winced at the phrasing his mind had automatically used as he slid into a chair—he could enjoy anticipating Aziraphale's disconcertment that was sure to come when Danny started to pester him about the garden and first sin. Until then… Well, until then the sausage was glowing green and had teeth.

And the Boo-oomerang was sitting out on the counter. Danny didn't even try to stifle the groan, there was just no way he was going to be able to. Might as well let it out and prepare a lie that had just enough truth to save his skin.

"Danny!" Jack boomed as he unhurriedly stabbed his fork at a few sausages that were trying to make a getaway over the side of the table. "Your mom and I thought we'd have breakfast together as a family this morning. To celebrate your un-grounding!"

Danny sent his father a week sort of smile that felt more like a grimace if his dad noticed he didn't say anything, but Danny was sure that the large man hadn't noticed. His father just wasn't observant when it came to him, though Jazz sometimes got a second glance before Jack headed back into whatever crazed invention he was thinking up next. "You know, Dad," Danny began as he stared at the sausages staring back him, nonplussed. "Most people don't have to hunt their food down _after_ it's been cooked."

Jazz, already dressed and perfectly prepared for a class that wouldn't start till eleven (and oh, how Danny envied her college schedule, even if it was just the local branch of UI, because he would have loved to not go to school till eleven… if he still required sleep) snickered across from the table as their mother set a plate of eggs in front of her. "You know, I have to agree with Danny," Jazz said as she poked the eggs with her fork and recoiled back as it moved and squealed.

"Try the sausage, Danny." Maddie smiled at him as she flicked the eggs into submission with her finger. "I used the Fenton Cooker. I think they turned out rather well."

Danny gaped at her. "Sure, Mom, if you like your food to fight back." Jazz squirmed away from the table, obviously unwilling to vacate her seat, but patently unnerved by the way the eggs were creeping towards her. Without thinking Danny reached out and jabbed his fork into it, sending a minute jolt of ectoenergy into it. There was more squealing, though this time it was loud and sharp before dying off to leave the only noise his father biting into one of the fighting sausages.

Jazz cleared her throat as she tossed a glance at her brother. "You know, this seems worse than the last time. Maybe I should start cooking more."

"You think?" was all Danny said to her as he began scooting his chair back, the wooden legs scraping noisily on the floor. "Hey, Jazz? You got any ectoguns? Maybe a Fenton Lipstick on you?"

He didn't dare look up at his sister as what was left on the table began to advance on him. The sausages were a too familiar sight—his mother cooked them in that godforsaken machine at least once a month. If it wasn't sausages it was hotdogs, and those were only marginally less vicious than the sausages. Though, and Danny never did manage to get over this oddity, they all seemed to adore his father even when being eaten. It was a form of cannibalism, Danny was sure, but for the moment he didn't want to think on it. No, right now he wanted to flee, because the eggs were definitely dead (at least until his mother got a hold of them again) and the sausages seemed to be leading the attack on the eggs' killer: Danny.

With a faint snarl the toast began to rock on the plate where it was stacked, but it couldn't seem to get up the energy to move about more than a few attempts. They must have been contaminated by proximity to the Fenton Cooker, Danny realized as he silently vowed to dismantle the damned contraption. The butter, too was apparently glowing, but it was flexible by nature and already beginning to ooze from its plastic container. Danny let out a faint whimper low in his throat as he glanced at Jazz to find her empty handed and morbidly fascinated by his impending doom.

Then a sausage rushed him.

It might have been alright if he let the sausage bury its sharp little fangs in his finger as Danny reached for his knife and fork with both hands, but the lack of blood would have caused too many questions. Sausage number one died an honorable death by slice and dice as Danny let out a war cry.

"Daniel Fenton!" his mother shot out as stabbed his butter knife into another sausage, barely having a chance to flip its writhing form from the steel before another one impaled itself on the fork. Jack merely reached for the dying meat stick and popped it into his mouth as he fiddled with something next to his plate, attention absorbed.

Danny shot a wild, wide eyed glance at his mother before fending off sausages four and five, with six well on its way to him. "Mom, I'm under attack here!"

The butter reached him even as he demolished another sausage, and while it wasn't as dangerous, there was no escaping it. The handles of his chosen weapons went slippery in his grasp and a sausage began to hop and drag itself towards Danny. "Stay back, you little bugger," Danny growled as he flipped a handful of the living butter at it."

It wasn't phased, merely dodged and clicked it's sharp teeth at him. Then it wasn't there, a silver streak cutting through the air before landing in his mother's grasp, writhing sausage stuck to it. She shook the possessed pork off of it and squished it beneath her foot before readying to throw again.

"Wait!" Jazz cried as Danny began to instinctively duck back. "It's not set for them!"

"Of course not," Maddie scoffed as she readied herself to release the Boo-oomerang. "It's keyed to Phantom, but it'll home in on these easily enough since he's not present."

Then she released and Danny closed his eyes, hoping that the gadget wouldn't imbed itself in his body somewhere, or his head, because there was no way he could explain himself out of that one without having to come clean with his secrets. All of them. And that wasn't something he could do, after all, how does one go about defying a deity?

But when he opened his eyes all he found was his still oblivious father, his slack jawed sister, and his satisfied mother—Boo-oomerang in hand.

"It didn't hit me," he murmured, and caught his mother's annoyed frown.

"Of course it didn't, Sweetie," she told him as she threw it once more, and this time Danny watched the graceful arc it inscribed in the air, something he'd never had the luxury of seeing before since it was always aiming itself at him. "It's set for Phantom, and you're not him. There's no ecto-DNA match."

"Right," he managed to choke without meeting Jazz's eyes. "May I be excused?"

He fled without looking back to the sanctuary of his bedroom, ostensibly to change his breakfast-war ruined clothes. Another shower was in order, and Danny ignored Jazz's knocks as he scrubbed at the butter left on his arms and made sure that there was nothing green and glowing and moving anywhere on his body. The knocking stopped well before he left the water behind, gone cold and in need of heating. In fact, when he glanced out of his window he saw that Jazz's car was nowhere to be seen, which suited him fine. He had no answers to give her anyway, better that she think he was too preoccupied or worried to talk to her.

He was dressed with minutes to spare before needing to leave, his reflection neat and clean in his mirror. Too neat, too clean, he already knew that his appearance was making for gossip and rumors as much as his changed behavior and the episode of 'running away.' There was no help for it, he decided, but untucked his shirt and ran a hand through his hand anyway before taking a deep breath.

Now he had to face school, which was an acceptable punishment now that he had the energy for it, and Sam. Somehow, Danny was sure he'd rather be facing the sausages again.

xXx

**Well, as we can all see **_**Ravens Claws**_** is back in production. Please go an read the preface (again) because it's been changed and updated. It's vaguely important, so please do. Next chapter will probably be up in a week or so. Much love, and I'm back in the saddle!**

**cd**


	14. Chapter 13

Ravens Claws

13

…_and death made angels of us all, gave us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws…_

Jazz wasn't used to being devious and underhanded, at least outside of psychoanalyzing her brother and his friends. But she had a decided edge on him unless he went ghost, and the odds of that were somewhere between slim and none. Much as Jazz hated to admit it, Danny had gotten timid about his ghost half since his stint as a missing person. Not that he was timid, not even a bit, but he was just so afraid of wherever he'd been, whatever he'd done—or whatever had been done to him.

And it was time for some answers. After all, Jazz reasoned as she pulled her car back along the curb around the corner from their house and put it into park, it wasn't healthy for him to be holding everything inside like he was. He was just a teenager, not even seventeen yet, there was no way he could possibly be able to cope with whatever it was that had happened without talking about it. And if she didn't force it out of him, then it was just fester inside of Danny until he broke. In Danny's case, breaking could be so much worse than just trying to kill himself.

Now all she had to do was wait for a few minutes for the stranger her brother had become to come barreling down the sidewalk to school. Thank god the attack of the breakfast bits had turned into such a time consuming affair, and Danny had needed another shower. Otherwise he'd have plenty of time to try and avoid her. Now he wouldn't even be paying attention.

It was luck, pure luck, that placed Jazz on the sidewalk right in Danny's path as he turned the corner and barreled straight into her. Her breath went clean out of her as they tumbled to the ground, and it was a credit to his agility that Danny managed to flip them so that he was the one pounding pavement with his face.

She winced as she saw her brother's nose gone slightly crooked, one cheek skinned and his eyebrow split through the middle. It was strange and completely wrong that there was no blood, and Jazz's stomach turned a little as she watched the flesh begin to knit back together covering glistening bone that should have been hid by bright red blood. Sam and Tucker both had told her, but it was so hard to believe them when they claimed that Danny was like super ghost now. and yet, to have it shoved in her face in such a manner made her sick.

"Oh, god, Danny," Jazz breathed as she scrambled back a bit and turned her face. "Do you have any idea how gross that is to see?"

She didn't see the hurt fly across his face at her instinctive reaction, and Danny did his best to cover it, making his tone flippant. "Nope, never watched myself in a mirror."

"We need to talk," Jazz started with no preamble as she got to her feet, brushing herself off and arching a brow as she caught sight of the skin that was missing on one of her brother's elbows. It was knitting back together, but without watching bone and cartilage move of its own accord, of bone disappearing between suddenly perfect flesh, it was easier to look at. "What is this, Danny?"

Her fingers gripped his arm and Danny fought the sudden urge to jerk it back and tell her that he wasn't a lab specimen. The way she was looking at him made his skin crawl, made the wingmarks on his back ache to let his wings free so that he could escape. He shrugged, an answer, he hoped, and a halfhearted attempt to soothe the itch of feathers beneath flesh. "I don't know," he countered as she turned bright blue-green eyes on him. "It wasn't my idea, they just…"

He stopped dead and Jazz let Danny go. "Danny, don't you think it's time you tell us who 'they' are? I mean, it's not like we don't all know that they did something to you. You need to talk about it," she pressed. She's trained for years to make her voice soothing and persuasive, and Jazz poured everything she had into it, watching the nuances on the boy's face, the way his blue eyes went dull and dark and darted to the left, the way his shoulders tensed and hunched at the same time. The way he swallowed convulsively, like he couldn't help it, like he was afraid.

"Danny?" she tried again, another tactic to convince him to confide in her. "Did they hurt you? You know it wasn't your fault, you didn't do anything wrong."

She wasn't prepared for the way he stepped back, arms straight at his sides and hands fisted as he shouted, "No!"

He stepped back again, arms wrapped around himself as he glared at her, backpack left lying on the ground between them as if he would rather be unprepared for school than come near her again, and Jazz's face fell. "I was just trying to help, Danny. It's not good for you to keep everything inside."

"Shut _up_, Jazz," he ordered her. "You don't have a clue. _Nobody hurt me. _So just leave it be, leave me alone, I don't want to talk about it!"

His vehemence was nearly violent, and Jazz took a hasty step of her own away from the angry halfa. "But—"

He cut her off without a thought, eyes boring into hers and impossibly blue as he said, "Drop it, Jazz. It's not your business."

He reached between them for his backpack and then shimmered out of sight, which made Jazz glance around in alarm. Either Danny was sure they were alone—which they were, thank god—or she had upset him so much that he didn't care. No, not upset. The only time he actually seemed upset was when she pushed. Angry was closer to what she'd seen radiating off of him. Anger and frustration.

Jazz bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth as she stood alone on the sidewalk. She needed to find answers to this riddle. Danny needed help, whether he could see it or not. _More like admit it,_ she amended silently. That was true; Danny knew full well that he needed help. She'd seen it on his face, in his eyes, in every vehement word he'd said. The only answer Jazz had was that he was trying to protect them.

"Is everything alright?" came a cultured voice from behind her, and Jazz spun to find Aziraphale watching her curiously.

Jazz's eyes narrowed. Here in front of her was one of the sources of her annoyance, one of three people in the entire world who knew what happened to Danny while he was missing those three days. Crowley was her best bet for truth, but Jazz was intelligent enough to know that if she planned on getting answers, Aziraphale was the one who would let something slip. And, Jazz decided as she raised her chin with a haughty glare, the best way of doing that would be to knock the pale man off balance.

"This is all your fault," Jazz accused, sure that he would immediately go defensive. She wasn't sure who, exactly, he was, but she was positive he knew more than he let out. Especially when it came to Danny. "What the hell did you do to my brother?"

She watched Aziraphale swallow and go slightly pale, guilt flashing across his features before he settled his eyes into a semblance of cool dismissal.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he told her. "I was merely concerned. You were standing here looking so lost." He gave her a winning smile, and despite it all Jazz knew that he was sincere in his concern. Unfortunately for Aziraphale that only made her madder.

"Just who do you think you are?" Jazz's finger drove against his chest sending the angel off balance and stepping back, a hand rising to rub his now sore solar plexus. "You come swooping in and take over my brother's life without so much as a word to me or anyone else, and now he won't talk to me. He won't talk to his best friends." She glared more, stepping forward intending to continue the assault.

The older man threw up his hands to ward her off, his accent suddenly thicker than before. "Peace! Peace, I tell you! There's no need to be a mad woman!"

Arms crossed over her chest, Jazz waited a moment as her brain caught up with her thought process. She had always been smart. Not always capable of the lightning quick connections that were little more than leaps of faith that Danny could make—that was what made him such a good tactician. But a leap of faith was exactly what Jazz took as she realized that the cultured Englishman in front of her wasn't alive. She didn't even take a breath to think of how long he'd been dead, or how he managed to pass himself off as human instead of a ghost, she merely demanded answers.

"What do you and Crowley want with my brother? Why doesn't he trust us?"

Her words were harsh, direct and blunt in the face of her normal poise. But Jazz knew what she was doing. At least she hoped she did, because now she had committed to her course of action and there was no change she could make. The demand given, Aziraphale would either answer it, which she didn't believe would happen, or he would do as she expected and try to evade.

For someone who had been dead at least a few years, he certainly wasn't very good at evasion. She almost laughed as he opened his mouth to answer her and only looked like a fish gasping for water as he tried to figure out a lie quickly enough. Oh, he was one of the easy ones who couldn't lie to save his own skin, she decided. Next step, shock.

"Oh my god," she began, and enjoyed it when he went even paler.

"Wait, what?" he tried, but she ran over his dulcet tones before he could manage more than two syllables.

"You're just like him," she accused. "You're a ghost!"

The answer wasn't what she expected. Anger, or fear, but not this intense compassion that suddenly grew in Aziraphale's eyes and face. "No," Aziraphale answered, with no relief and a bit of pity. "I'm nothing like Danny. I'm merely a Principal, and he… Well, he's a bit more important than that."

"Important? How important?"

"I'm sorry," said the angel. "I can't give you the answers you want or need."

Jazz nearly hissed at him, she was so irate. Her voice was hard when she finally addressed him again. "But you do have answers." Aziraphale said nothing and Jazz looked down to hide the despair she felt. She had answers, they were right at her fingertips. But this man, this stranger, he wasn't going to budge. He was hiding things about her brother and he wasn't going to tell her.

"If you hurt him," she said softly, eyes closed, face still down. "Or if he gets hurt because you've hid something… The three of us will come after you."

"I'd expect nothing less," was the gentle rejoinder.

Jazz didn't say anything, just got in her car and drove away.

xXx

Despite his newly angelic origins, Danny had a harder time paying attention in school than before he'd died. Monday's were well acknowledged to generally be the suckiest day of the week (though Danny was sure that Wednesday was a close runner up), and this particular Monday was worse than usual. He was ungrounded, and Sam knew it.

He'd had to tell his friends about it; if they'd found out another way then he was going to be in a lot more trouble than he could handle. Especially from Sam, because given what had happened when she was drunk… Anything that could be taken as rejection would break the fragile truce between them.

In fact, that was the thought that had occupied him the entire day. Habit had allowed him to wander from class to class (and thank God that he didn't share many with either Sam or Tucker). Despite his recent involvement in class and lifting of grades, his inattention seemed a relief to the majority of his teachers. For the time being, Danny was content to go with it; especially when he could answer just about any question the teachers threw at him without pause. But when all was said and done, the entirety of his attention was focused on the fact that he no longer had any legitimate way to avoid Sam.

Eight hours of school—less if one considered the time between classes and at lunch, where he had to focus on Tucker and Sam—and almost an hour wandering in the park hadn't given Danny any clarity on how to handle the dilemma. It was almost laughable. Here he was, a healthy sixteen year old boy, and he was angsting over his girlfriend practically demanding sex.

The thought stopped him in his tracks. Healthy his ass. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead. No wonder he was angsting. Even before this it was a little odd to think about, since he was half dead. But now… No. Danny shook his head, intending to let his wandering feet guide him home. At least by locking himself in his room he was guaranteed some little sanctuary. He was interrupted by two familiar voices from behind.

"Danny!"

Tucker and Sam were coming up fast behind him—too close for him to pretend anything and expect to get away. And from the looks of the basket in Sam's hand, there wouldn't be anything other than the excuse of a few ghosts that would let him escape. So he bit the bullet and waved.

"Hey guys, what're you doing here?"

Sam grinned as she came alongside him. "We thought we're celebrate since you're officially grounding free. You didn't eat much at lunch so I packed a basket."

The smile on Danny's face froze in place as he stifled a grimace. He never ate anything anymore, not unless someone was watching. Then it only made him feel strange, so he tried to avoid it. It was odd, the not eating. He never felt full, he just didn't seem to feel anything where hunger was concerned. He did the only thing he could think to do. He lied.

"That's great, Sam." The smile on his face was standard, pasted there as his heart stuttered in his chest at the way she looked at him. He had to steel himself against the sudden surge of desire, and then the overwhelming and ever present guilt that threatened to force him to his knees. _Angelic thoughts,_ he reminded himself, for all the good that it did. But smile he continued to do.

She smiled back, completely unaware that anything was wrong before sliding under his arm to press against his side, the basket banging between them as Tucker pretended to gag at them. It was simply so right to have her there, so close to him. It felt good, and complete, and he hated that anything he wanted to do with her, the way he loved her, was something he wasn't supposed to have anymore.

From in front of them Tucker rolled his eyes. "You guys are gross. And Sam, I'm not eating that crap you packed."

She frowned at him. "You know, Tucker, you're lucky I'm in such a good mood, or else I'd kick you."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "There isn't a single speck of meat in there Sam. I'll die if I eat that stuff."

Danny started laughing at that. "Sure Tucker. And I'm the Virgin Mary." For a moment Danny paused, entire body tense as he realized he'd just completely blasphemed. Oh, he was so going to hell. Then again, Danny's mind shot at him, he might already be there. How could hell be worse than the hundred little ways he was hurting Sam?

His sudden tense silence was covered when Tucker started laughing at Danny. "Dude, I'd pay money to see you in a dress."

Danny nearly flipped his friend off, but stopped at the last second as he realized that it wasn't a very good thing, and as an angel he should be good. He _needed_ to be good. It was just so hard. Instead he hid the uncertainty he was feeling by turned his head and pressing his lips to Sam's hair, breathing deeply and hoping that it would somehow steady him. Her presence did usually make him feel better, even if it was nearly driving him crazy as well.

Sam seemed to lean into the chaste kiss as she said, "The Nasty Burger is less than a block away, Tuck. Feel free to get a heart attack on a bun."

Danny didn't think he'd seen Tucker move so fast since the fitness test in freshman year. From the way Sam was shaking under his arm he was pretty sure she was thinking along the same lines. The humor was just so easy to come by where Tucker was concerned. A chuckle escaped him as he dropped his arm from Sam's shoulder to take the basket of apparently vegetarian food from her. He nodded his head towards the grass on the other side of the fountain.

"Come on, let's get some grass," he said. She followed with a smile on her face, looking much more relaxed than she had since Danny had returned from heaven. It made him smile, nearly content as he made a show of finding the perfect place to sit. The longer he drew it out, he knew, the less time there would be for meaningful interaction. That was something he couldn't afford right now. As it was, he was halfway to dying (were he not already dead) for a chance to kiss her.

Finally he found a place in the grass and sank to it, taking the basket and Sam both with him. She went willingly and he didn't even touch the basket, simply laid back with Sam cradled against him. Her hair was soft against his neck and cheek, and her breathing was gentle and steady.

"Hey Sam?" he asked, not even sure what he was going to say. His mouth was running away from him again, he was sure, but he was so content to stare at the sky with her beside him. Cloud watching could be his new hobby.

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?" It was a mortifying question, but even as he asked it Danny desperately wanted to know the answer.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she levered herself up onto an elbow to look down at him. One of her hands came up to gently brush his hair away from his eyes.

"Are you happy? With me, I mean?" Blue eyes bored into violet with every modicum of seriousness that Danny possessed.

Sam frowned. "Are you trying to break up with me?" The insecurity in her eyes tore at his heart, and Danny wasn't sure whether he should hate himself for putting it there in the first place, or hate himself for the fact that he was about to take it away.

Before Sam could do anything else, Danny pushed himself up on both of his elbows, his mouth meeting hers. As kisses went it wasn't mind blowing. There weren't fireworks, rumbles of thunder, or lightning crashing around them. But it was warm, and full of the love he held in his heart for her. Dead or no, there was nothing that could change the way he felt for her. If it had taken dying again, he would happily have sacrificed himself to take away the lost, almost haunted look to her eyes.

When he pulled away from he smiled, rubbed his nose against hers, savoring the action as though it might be the last time he ever did it. "No, Sam. Not breaking up with you."

She smiled brilliantly. "Then yes, I'm happy with you."

He chuckled a laugh as he leaned in to kiss her again, this time letting it heat slowly as their lips met. It was gentle again, there was no need to clash as they kissed, but she trembled against his mouth. It was deliciously sensual, the way he felt her want to give in, submit to his tender demands, her lips parting to let his tongue dip in and taste her. One of her hands found its way to clutch at his shirt, the motion at his chest pulling the thin material tightly. It only took Danny another second to reach for her with one arm, the other balancing his weight carefully, and pull her against him, the heat suddenly bursting into sizzling flames.

"Oh, I see how it is." The voice that interrupted them was amused and disgusted at the same time as Danny pulled back from Sam's mouth, startled and looking up as Sam did. "You don't pack anything for me to eat just so you can make out with him."

Tucker snorted as he dropped to the grass beside them, his Nasty Burger bag on his lap. The scent coming from it was entirely appetizing and Danny spared a moment from his sudden embarrassment to half wish that he still craved food like mortal humans. Next to them both Sam faked a gag as Tucker pulled a steaming Nasty Burger from the bag, unwrapping it much as one would revere a priceless piece of artwork.

"You know," he said conversationally, "If you make up excuses like this every time you want to play tonsil hockey, you're going to be contributing to my inevitable heart attack."

Sam rolled her eyes and kicked him ungently in the leg. As expected Tucker complained, rubbing his leg and then waving the meat at her. It was all Danny could do to keep from laughing at the ensuing argument. He contented himself instead with lying back down on the grass, one hand still holding to Sam. Contentment; it was a word he'd used a lot in the last half hour, he realized. And after all of the debating and doubting when it came to Sam and where she wanted their relationship to be.

It was an effort to keep the frown that wanted to follow that from his face, but he did it. It was horrible to think that he was becoming so proficient at lying. To everyone else but himself, it seemed. But he could still do that with amazing ease, the kisses he'd given Sam not minutes before were an excellent example. Danny shuddered to think what Aziraphale would say if he knew Danny had done that. The angel was such a goody two shoes. It galled him to agree with Crowley, but it was the truth. The angel was a rigid do-gooder who would most likely avert his eyes if Danny even pecked Sam on the lips in his presence. It was a wonder that the two were such friends—they were so different.

Not so much unlike himself and his friends, Danny figured as a fry came sailing in his direction. Sam had ducked and it landed on his stomach, nearly falling off. He reached for it and sent it flying back at Tucker. "Don't waste good food!" he said out of habit with another sigh for the loss of his appetite.

"Stuff it," Tucker said a little heatedly. "It's not like you've been saving the food these days. You throw entire trays out at lunch."

Danny flushed as he sat up. "I was joking, Tuck. What's your deal?"

Sam glanced back at him, arching a brow. "So you missed the entire conversation?" He shrugged.

"I was thinking. It's a nice day. I thought you two were just having another installment of the Great Meat Debate." He glanced between the pale girl and the dark boy. "What'd I miss?"

Sam started laughing as Tucker glared at her and sputtered denials at the halfa. "It's not either of your business, so just let it be."

"I don't know, Tucker," Sam started only to have Tucker shove a handful of fries in her mouth to quiet her. He turned to Danny and said tersely, unhappiness bright in his clear green eyes, "Girl trouble. That's all you need to know."

"Ah," Danny replied sagely, even though his experience with girls went as far as a few dates with Valerie and the rest of his life with Sam. Not that that was mostly going to happen, but pretending for a few seconds wouldn't kill him. He was so caught up in his thoughts that when the chilled breath worked its way up his throat to hang just past his lips that Danny was taken completely by surprise.

"It's time for you to surrender, whelp."

Danny jerked away from Sam, on his feet within seconds as his best friends scrambled to their own. Even as he heard Tucker complaining about his food being wasted Danny was already wondering where Skulker had gotten another set of battle armor on such short notice, and how he'd managed to get to it and back to challenge him again in such short order. The snappy sarcasm was just reflex.

"Didn't I already kick your ass once this week?"

Skulker's laughter boomed from inside the metal exoskeleton, and Danny wondered for a moment if he had any real need to worry. No, he decided. He was already dead, there was nothing the ghost could do to him that would be worse than that. And so long as he kept the hunter focused on him, then Sam and Tucker would stay safe.

Skulker dropped a little lower in the air, and Danny glanced around taking in the possibility of watching civilians. There were none, so he felt confident in facing Skulker without worry.

"You got lucky last time. Before this battle is finished your pelt will adorn my bed."

Danny just sighed and shook his head. "Skulker, when will you get it into your head that I'm not merely decoration? But hey! The bed! That's what, a step up from the wall?"

He chuckled as he let the silver-white rings that heralded his inner ghost slide across his body to leave the black hazmat behind. He'd never changed in front of Sam or Tucker since actually dying, but the timing for releasing his wings was near perfect, and they only emerged from the wingmarks through the tight black fabric a second or so after the rings passed his shoulders. In the end it was Danny Phantom left facing the other ghost, face severe and implacable, the smile that played on his lips much more dangerous that the laughter of moments before had implied.

The ghost glared at the halfa, and his voice boomed again. "If you're lucky I'll use your skull as a chamberpot."

Danny didn't even flinch at the disgusting prospect, merely clenched his fists in anticipation of the battle. "If you think you can, Skulker, bring it."

xXx

**Yes, late, sorry, feeling ill. Next update will be quicker I hope.**


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